Paint the Sky
by Iris Cornelia Jade
Summary: Katherine, Thomas, Luke, and Jane leave the Irish Island and desert their mother. Can Madeleine reunite her family-even if it's at the doors of death?
1. Chapter 1

**First Story of Fandom!**

**This story is dedicated to Lapulta (even though she retired—grrrrr!) I thought of the idea when, after not blinking while reading her story, I had to admit that, according to the books and all that stuff, she had gotten all the facts wrong when talking about the originals. Even so, her story is absolutely AMAZING and I encourage you to read it. It's called ****Forgiveness the Story of Madeleine Cahill.**** I will put it on my favorites page as soon as I figure out how (IT'S SO ANNOYING BEING A NEWBIE!) And Lapulta, if you ever read this, I am sorry for criticizing you and sorry especially for taking your idea of italics, but it was so good I just couldn't resist. Forgive me.**

**Without further ado, the story! Please, no flamers, but con crit is appreciated. DISCLAIMER: IF THE 39 CLUES WERE MINE, THE SERIES WOULD BE ABOUT THE ORIGINAL 5, NOT AMY AND DAN!**

_M :When do I come in?_

_L: Aw, don't worry Mads. You come in later._

_J :*scoff* Remind me why dad's writing this? I'M THE BETTER WRITER!_

_G: Deary…_

_J: DON'T CALL ME DEARY!_

_G: Don't forget, I'm your father. I think the first chapter is of utmost importance, and cannot be biased. Therefore, I should write it._

_L: Dad, come on! At least it's biased in my favor! Do I have to listen to you?_

_G: Luke, I am your father!_

_*silence*_

_L: That was from a movie._

_K:Galactic quest? Was it?_

_T: Close enough. Star Wars._

_J:I'M STUCK WITH A BUNCH OF PEOPLE WHO DON'T KNOW WHAT STAR WARS IS!_

_G: Why did she leave? Was that fact of great importance?_

_L: Apparently her great great great great…oh, whatever, her direct descendant was director of that movie. Anyway, I should go take a shower._

_T: If I didn't know better, I'd say he LIKED flexing his muscles in front of the mirror. Or at least, his poor excuse for muscles._

_K: He does that?_

_T:Yep._

_K: Thanks for the image. I'm going to go wash my eyelids._

_T: It's just you and me, dad._

_G: Thomas…why don't you go? I heard Louisa found some Coca-Cola…_

_T: COKE!_

_G: Peace and quiet at last…okay. Now, first off, despite what I said, I'm not Jane. So don't expect this to win an award. Second, I'm doing this by myself because if I told the children the contents of this chapter, they would gain on me and slice me to bits. However, I felt the need to tell this part of the story. Because, if I didn't find the serum, there would be 2 options. One, humanity as we know it would be a bit like living in __Little House on the Prairie.__ Second option, we're all dead. Actually, probably number 2. However, this DIDN'T happen, so you can be happy about that._

_Will you stop looking behind my back, Olivia? I'm praying you won't call over the kids, but one can't be too careful._

_~GC (and technically, LC, MC, JC, KC, and TC are coauthors, but that's just because I wasn't there for the rest of it. Plus, I'm writing this chapter. Therefore, I'm the writer.)_

"Better combo, par none!"

Despite the fact the dinner table had become a battlefield, Gideon and Olivia Cahill smiled as their 4 children rounded the table, 2 on 2. Jane's temper matched her fiery hair as she leaned over the table to Katherine and poked her in the chest. Despite being the youngest, she managed to coax a cry of pain from the girl. Golden hair swinging, Katherine promptly blushed at the sign of weakness and smacked her hand in the way older sisters can. Luke squeezed Jane's hand in congratulations before returning to his heated debate with Thomas.

"Jane, please! Don't make us hurt each other yet!"

The girlish earnestness of Katherine made the mother and father swing around and laugh. Two heads of dark hair straightened up at the sound of the laughter—Luke and Thomas had temporarily ceased to argue at the sound of their parent's presence.

"Mommy, daddy, don't you have anything to say?"

Even though her hair was graying, Olivia Cahill's laugh was sweet as she reached over to wipe the mouth of the little black haired boy.

"Dearest, I think all your talents are equally worthy, but you aren't masters just yet."

Jane, who had been screaming with mirth while being tickled by Katherine, resurfaced and piped up, "If we survive the plague, we will be!"

The mood considerably sobered. Katherine, Jane, Thomas, and Luke immediately joined their hands into a circle and reached out for their parents, an action a bit like reaching for a security blanket. It was something that had been happening more and more often lately.

Together, they gathered into a circle and prayed for peace. Then, Jane left for her lyre, Luke his ever-present sketch pad and pen (on which he wrote battle strategies) and Thomas decided to go outside. Katherine went with him, feverishly hoping to find some new plant.

Gideon left for the lab.

* * *

His partner, Damien Vesper, was waiting.

"About time. I left early. The boys insisted I stay. Little will they realize how important this is."

Gideon flinched.

"Damien, we do this FOR the future generation. So they will survive the plague."

Damien's smile softened.

"Should I go and apologize?"

"I'll have all the things I need. Go ahead."

The young man, in his twenties, skipped toward the door happily. Gideon smiled and sighed. The man had so much promise and talent, but for some reason Gideon couldn't destroy the sense of foreboding—the sense that sometime, somewhere, Damien would leave. Leave and take something very precious—something of Gideon's—with him.

Turning back to the test tube, Gideon poured in another ounce of clover. Slightly shaking the vial, he held it up to the light. Then, he found a small, dying bug and without hesitation poured a drop onto its head, nearly drowning it.

The bug turned and lay still.

Gideon sighed and took out 7/8ths of the clover—it was clogging the top.

"Gideon, I'm back! Any breakthroughs?"

In his surprise, Gideon turned and jolted his arm. His vial flew up in the air and smashed on top of a rat. The rat had its tail caught in one of the many mousetraps ingenious Katherine had designed—one of her only experiments that had worked. Its fur was patched in places: it was also a victim of the plague.

Ah well. Gideon shrugged. The rat was dying anyway. Damien, however, leaned forward. "Is the rat okay?"

The rat was okay. The rat was better than okay. The rat was doing wonderful. Instead of struggling with the trap again, it stopped, nibbled part of the trap, then reached for a bit of the spilled clover. Wedging a single leaf between his tail and the metal trap, he managed to get his tail out with the hair of a space the clover had given him. Turning twice, it scampered off.

Damien and Gideon straightened up. Damien's face was flushed with the thrill of excitement.

"It healed the plague, but not only that: it made him ingenious, smart, gifted. With a serum like this, we could rule the world!"

Gideon hesitated. "One thing is for certain: it will cure the plague. But the question is, if it gives up supernatural powers…"

Damien snapped. "What?"

"Are you sure we should burden the world?"

Damien smiled, a power-hungry grin that scared Gideon.

"Gideon, dear friend, we'll heal our families first, and talk about the side-effects later."

* * *

"Olivia…"

Gideon's wife rounded on him with a fire in her eyes he couldn't quite place.

"Gideon, let the others change history! I cannot, will not do this! This is the new plague—the plague of power!"

"No." Gideon held out his arms. "It is the gateway to the future, millennia ahead of schedule.

"Let the future come when its time is right!" and suddenly Olivia was crying—horrible, hacking sobs shaking through her whole body like a storm. "Luke, Katherine, Thomas, Jane." Olivia gave a half laugh. "And Madeleine."

"Mark," corrected Gideon.

Olivia shook her head. "Madeleine. It will be a girl, I am sure of it." She placed a hand on her stomach. "They're your children, Gideon. This…serum will tear them apart. It will unleash the ruthless side of them we all have, but never want to see."

Gideon wriggled himself loose of the hug. "The serum will be discovered sometime—and by a less peaceful, less morally right family than us." He shook her shoulders, the golden scarab ring from Damien glittering in the sun. "The future is ours to ruin by handing over to someone else—or save by keeping, treasuring, and nurturing to perfection."

Gideon mutely handed Olivia the vial. Olivia pursed her lips, slipped her fingers around the glass, and drank it in one gulp.

* * *

"Children?"

The 4 looked up in the middle of the prayer of Luke.

"Sh, dad, Luke's praying! Wait a bit, please?"

The innocent teens turned back to Luke. "…and please, let us find a way to stop the plague."

"Amen." They all turned back toward Gideon

Gideon smiled and handed them all a cup of hot chocolate. "It's a special Goodnight present."

The children stampeded each other toward the mugs. A treasure like this was very rare. As soon as Katherine had wrapped her hands around the steamy froth, ever the curious, she questioned. "We only drink hot cocoa on special occasions. What happened?"

Gideon smiled again, even wider. "Drink."

Luke gasped and dropped his already empty mug. It landed with a muffled thump on the rug as he turned his glinting black eyes to his father. "You found the serum, didn't you?"

Gideon repeated, "Drink."

The remaining 3 gasped and eagerly gulped down the drink—the drink that would lay out their destiny.

* * *

It was late at night—VERY late at night. Gideon and Damien smiled at each other.

"My children were a bit over-enthusiastic about it."

Gideon smiled. "Likewise. Luke even dropped the cup in surprise. There's a crack now—but never mind. A crack in a cup won't matter."

"Indeed…we shall rule the world."

Gideon faced Damien. "Damien, Olivia told me this serum would set the world at war and turn apart our families."

Damien snickered. "She's too old fashioned, Gideon. I told you. You had the choice—you could have married Anna, Eva, Lillia, but—"

"Damien," murmured Gideon in an impossibly soft voice, "I think she's right."

The man gasped in surprise, then regained composure and stepped backward, away from Gideon, blending into the shadows.

When the man spoke again, his voice was harsh. "Gideon, you haven't drank your fill yet, have you?"

Gideon blanched. "Well, no, but—"

Damien stepped back out of the shadows. The same Damien, yet different. His eyes were pitch dark, his head held a lot higher, his posture screaming with malice. "Don't tell me you plan to find a way to terminate the effect?"

Gideon hung his head. "It is the truth. This serum will rip apart the bonds of families and the promises of friends."

Damien stared back. In his eyes were a type of black fire that burned a hole through Gideon, at the same time containing chips of midnight ice that were freezing him to the spot.

"You are right, as always, Gideon." The voice was cold as Arctic snow. "This serum SHALL rip apart the promises of friends. It already has ripped one bond—ours. "

Damien threw the vial on the floor, and grabbed a bag. Ripping it open, he found bars of tungsten.

"I paid for this," Damien's voice shook slightly. "Out of my own pocket." He plucked out a single sliver, twirling it between his long, slim fingers. "Imported directly from Asia—all for a chance to escape this all. And THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?"

The metallic material hit the wall with a bang. Gideon called over the sudden din as Damien began to ravage his other items, "Stop, Damien, stop!"

"I DON'T CARE!" he shrieked. "I DON'T CARE! THIS IS SOMETHING I DON'T NEED—" he threw a bag of gold on the floor. "OR THIS—" down came a vial of phosphorus. "AND CERTAINLY NOT THIS!"

He was holding the last 2 milliliters of his vial of serum.

"Damien—"

"THIS IS HOW I THINK OF THE CAHILLS!"

Damien smashed the serum against the floor. By the time Gideon had moved his eyes from the serum, the black, swirling form of Damien had disappeared into the night.

* * *

Olivia sighed as Gideon recounted the events of the night.

"Gideon, I can't say I'm surprised."

"I'm not either," he said glumly. "I knew he would sometime, somewhere in my heart. I just didn't want to believe it."

"Well, we're always deluded by our conscience at some point." Said Olivia wisely. "At any rate, take off that ring."

"I don't think I will," said Gideon thoughtfully. "I'll keep it as a reminder. To not be too paranoid."

"Exactly. If you'd let other people on the island, then someone could assist you when Damien ravaged the lab. "

"I doubt an army could stop Vesper if he was determined," commented Gideon dryly.

"At any rate, " said Olivia as she gazed into the fire, "we've got each other. And that's really all we need."

A flash of lightning illuminated the forms of Luke, Katherine, Thomas and Jane. They leaped into the arms of the parents, obviously scared by the lightning.

"Jane, you're already 7! Still scared of lightning?" laughed Olivia.

"Never to old to hug your mom" murmured Jane, already falling asleep next to Luke as she sat in her mother's lap.

Thomas and Katherine clung to both of their father's arms.

"See?" laughed Olivia "That's all we need."

Gideon mused Thomas' hair and hugged Katherine.

"Yes," he agreed. "All we need is right here."

_J: FATHER! I TOLD YOU NOT TO WRITE ABOUT IT! I TOLD you. I TOLD you. AND YOU DID! I ACT LIKE SUCH A BABY IN HERE!_

_L:Well, you WERE a baby in there!_

_J: Care to repeat that?_

_L: Woah! Chill…what was that that calmed you down? Maddie? Oh, right…you need a cup of tea…_

_J:A CUP OF TEA?_

_L:Or was that coffee…with 2 sugar cubes and a cup of milk?_

_J:CUP OF MILK? I'LL TURN __**YOU**__ INTO A CUP OF MILK!_

_K:Well, now that Thomas and Maddie have left to chase off dad and Luke and Jane—wow, Jane, wow—are…occupied? Anyway—LANGUAGE, JANE, LANGUAGE! I know it's 21__st__ century already, but no need to—never mind. Yeah, so I guess this concludes the first chapter of the story! Privately, I don't really care about this section—I was mature enough—but I probably shouldn't mention that to Jane…_

**Yeah, I know, horrible. Part of the italics was from Miss Lapulta *tips hat* but the writing was 100% me. Con crit, and NO FLAMES! C'mon, people. Cut some slack—it's my first fan fic! And can someone please tell me how to add a story to favorites?**


	2. Chapter 2

**The fact that I have no reviews is probably due to the fact I posted at 12:00 AM last night while my mom and dad snored their heads off. PLEASE REVIEW. I never thought I would stoop that low, but I need to see what people think of my writing! **

**Anywho…after I write this chapter I'm going to check Lapulta's story, and if you ever read this (which you won't) I encourage you to check it too! In addition:Lapulta, if you are reading this, rest assured I've closed the whole 21****st**** century pothole, and I'm 99.999999% sure I didn't use your italics this time. Sorry, your idea was so good…I couldn't resist. All potholes will be closed…LATER.**

**DISCLAIMER: THE 39 CLUES? IF IT WAS MY CHOICE, I'D COME UP WITH A MORE CONVINCING 39****TH**** CLUE. I MEAN SERIOUSLY, SOMEONE WOULD HAVE WONDERED AT LEAST ONCE, "HOW MUCH OF THIS AM I SUPPOSED TO ADD?" THEN THEY WOULD HAVE FIGURED OUT. IT'S NOT MUCH OF A BREAKTHROUGH. CONFUSED AT WHAT I MEAN? LONG STORY SHORT: I DON'T OWN THE SERIES.**

**And so…the story!**

_G: Let's cut to the chase._

_K: Yes, LET'S!_

_T: After all, you told us you'd explain why you won't let US finally write part of the story!_

_G: Well, Luke's in the intensive care unit, Maddie's…somewhere? And Jane's currently in her room waiting for me to secure her final punishment. If I let you write this, you'd bias it from your point of view again. If either Jane or Luke were here, they'd balance you out. But they're not. So I write. Mother too, she's unbiased as well._

_O: Children, I am sorry._

_K: I am going to use a lollipop maker to smash you into a million bits. Then, I will take the pieces and throw them one by one off the Great Wall of China.._

_T: I will personally take a meat hacker, ground you into little pieces, stew you in tomatoes, feed you to the pigs, reincarnate you, and push you off the Grand Canyon._

_G: Well…on that happy note…I guess I'll write the chapter before my children kill me. Parent abuse, this is…_

Something was terribly wrong.

So, the serum had probably worked. That would explain why Jane was suddenly playing like she'd had LIFETIMES of experience, Thomas was finally showing Olympic-style strength like he hoped he would, Luke was plotting and planning like an evil mastermind, and Katherine had successfully constructed nearly 10 inventions in the space of an hour.

Of course, the fact that Olivia had inhaled half the lab (literally, she swallowed 1/5 of the ingredients to insure Gideon could never construct the serum again) screaming "Please make it stop!" was not helping.

He'd figured he might as well get to work.

Of course, that had been 3 years ago.

Gideon ducked as a small orange mushroom cloud emitted from the beaker. Grabbing it, he found another "subject" (this time a curious grasshopper) and poured a bit of serum on him before dousing it with the new liquid. The grasshopper, who had moments before made a step ladder to the block of cheese on the table (thanks to his ingenious new serum-triggered skills), immediately died.

By now, he'd probably created enough supernatural powerful bugs to take over the world.

He'd killed them all with his so called remedies.

Sighing, he took a vial of water off his desk. He slowly filled it with the last of the 7 ingredients Olivia had so kindly digested. He'd save them in case they ever needed the serum again.

"Cahill."

Gideon turned so quickly, a rack of test tubes spilled to the floor. Grabbing at them desperately and setting them straight again, he turned toward the man in the black cloak.

"Vesper."

"I've come back for the serum."

Gideon's lips turned upright into a tight smile. "And why would that be?"

Damien stepped forth. "My son has the plague."

That was certainly an unexpected answer.

"Did you not give them the serum?"

Vesper hissed.

"Fool! You did not realize. Only the most powerful, the most fitting, are fit to rule the world! That fateful day, I realized it. I drank the serum on the way there and pretended you had let me leave early."

"So why do you not leave your only son to die?" Gideon countered.

Damien glared. "I need somebody to carry down my legacy. However, rest assured. I have sufficient resources to find the way to counter the side effects. Soon, you and your family shall no longer have powers."

And Gideon's eye caught on something. In his panic, he realized that in the muddled pool of the fallen test tubes, there was the small grasshopper that, had he had the serum, would have turned right way up. However, he was lying upside down, waving his little legs uselessly. No living thing in possession of extreme power would have been this stupid, unless—

"Too late."

Vesper raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Gideon smiled demonically. "I said, you're too late. I've already got the anti-serum."

Gideon grabbed the whole rack of test tubes—he wasn't sure which countered the serum—and threw it into his former friend's face.

As the glass smashed against his face, Damien raised his hands to block his eyes, nose, and mouth. Nevertheless, he had gained sufficient cuts all over. And, by his outrage, it was easy to see he had swallowed some of the anti-serum.

"YOU!" Damien howled. "GIVE ME THE SERUM! I WANT IT, AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME!"

Gideon dangled a last test tube in front of his face teasingly. "You want it?" He tossed it in the air. "Go get it."

Damien leaped for it in terror, but his masterminding skills had deserted him with the anti-serum. The glass smashed against the floor at Gideon's feet.

"Go ahead," murmured Gideon quietly. "Take what you can. If you can."

Damien gave him a look of deepest loathing. "You have bested me this time, perhaps, but be warned. Your family will never be safe from mine. I vow, as long as your ancestors and my ancestors live, I swear, your family will never be safe from the wrath of mine."

Damien pulled out of his pocket a small stick of wood. Drawing it against a piece of charcoal, a flame snapped to life. "Let this be a warning," he hissed maniacally as the flame burned dangerously toward his fingertips.

Gideon backed against the lab table, his eyes drawn wide. "You wouldn't dare…"

"Oh, but I do dare."

Damien threw the match on the floor. It smoldered, and Gideon drew a sigh of relief. However, soon the fire snapped back to life, igniting the floor. Damien smiled evilly as he grabbed another small bucket out of his pocket. Slowly, he walked in a circle around him, pouring the flammable liquid in a ring around Gideon.

The liquid ignited into a ring of fire, blocking every way out except for the one Damien was standing in.

"Let this be a warning."

Damien tossed the last match into the place where he had formerly been, completing the circle and vanishing, leaving Gideon surrounded by a wreath of flames.

* * *

Olivia heard the smash of glass from the laboratory. Abandoning her garden and running toward the house, however, she realized with a feeling of dread she was too late. As she ran toward her home, she watched the fire burn slowly, flickering up the walls and eating the windows.

"Mother!"

Katherine, Thomas, Luke, and Jane burst out of the house with wild eyed looks of panic. All began to talk at once.

"I smelled smoke—"

"Window began burning—"

"Fire—"

Slowly, all the chatter died. The children's eyes, one after another, sought and found the sight of the fire that was eating at the left corner of the house. Where Gideon's lab was. Where the serum was.

_The Serum!_

Olivia's closed eyes flew open. She quickly took off her cloak, draped it over her children and ran toward the slowly but surely burning house.

* * *

She saw him before he saw her.

"Gideon!" She could only catch glimpses of him between the burning flames.

"Olivia!" His voice was wild with panic. He was smashing beakers, ripping open bags of ingredients and tossing them to the flames. "Damien will come back! We can't let him get the leftover serum and ingredients!"

This propelled her into action. She took a deep breath, and leapt over the smallest of the flames. The very hem of her dress caught fire, but Gideon quickly put it out with the last beaker of liquid still remaining.

* * *

_G: That was a pretty good jump. It was really funny, watching you flail your arms._

_O: Shut up, you. Write._

* * *

Now that the ingredients were gone, Olivia and Gideon began to realize that, in destroying the lab, they had sealed their fate. The extra fuel they had poured to the spark turned it into a burning inferno that heated everything to temperatures high enough to burn flesh. Sparks danced as Gideon and Olivia searched frantically for a hole.

"Olivia!"

There it was—just enough space to crawl through, yet the hole was closing so rapidly only one of them could fit in before it closed altogether.

They looked at each other and came to an immediate decision.

"We've got to save Madeleine."

Gideon frantically tore of a piece of parchment and scribbled furiously, running out of ink all too many times. Finally, he thrust the paper into Olivia's hand.

It was the sheet of clues.

"Split these among the children, but give the circled clues to Madeleine," sputtered Gideon, already choking from the noxious fumes. "Those clues are the most powerful ones—eventually, she'll experiment enough to understand what they do. Even you can't know—you might tell the other children. She's innocent enough so that she won't use them to bring about destruction. Bring her up the right way, away from the unlimited power, the world at her fingertips, until she's old enough to understand. " Gideon smiled sadly as he plucked off the golden ring of Damien Vesper. Pressing it into Olivia's hand, he continued, "And give this to Madeleine as well, as a reminder to succeed where her father failed." He pushed Olivia quickly through the hole in the fire. "Tell the children I love them."

The sparks shot up into the night, and the gap between the flickering fire closed, blocking up the remorseful yet determined face of Gideon Cahill.

Olivia Cahill, now a widow, fled the house and returned to the children. Dashing under the cloak, she huddled with them as she watched the house of her memories fade and fall.

* * *

_M: May I come out now?_

_O: Certainly, Madeleine. Why were you hiding?_

_M: Well, I told Luke about the tea….so I was worried Jane would send me to the ER right beside Luke._

_G: It's alright. Come out now. Did mom tell you the story of how our family split?_

_M: No._

_O: Then it's about time you learned._

* * *

Finally, when the whole house was on fire warm enough to keep them toasty though they were many feet away, Katherine and Thomas came to a whispered agreement and pushed off their mother's cloak. Thomas rounded on Luke and Jane while Katherine ran into the house, hoping to save a last-minute book. Olivia didn't try to stop her.

"Well?"

Luke stood up. "What?"

Thomas took 2 steps toward Luke, closing the gap between them. "You did it." Thomas hissed, poking Luke in the chest. "You killed dad. You burned down the house. So you could get the clues."

Jane stood up as Luke glared at Thomas. "You mistake me. I may have learned my fair share in trickery from the serum, but I would never, _never_ stoop that low." Luke shoved Thomas away from him. "Would you?"

"How **dare** you accuse me? That's proof you killed father!" Thomas stepped closer again, quaking in rage. "Couldn't you be happy with what talents you have? Couldn't you? You already drank the serum, so now your descendants have the strategic power to stop and start wars. But that wasn't enough for you, was it?" Katherine ran out of the house, clutching the last of her equipment, as Thomas exploded. "You needed your descendants to rule the world—your children to be better than ours. Was it worth it?" Thomas balled his fists. "WAS IT WORTH IT?"

Luke stared at Thomas. It was not the usual glare they shared when fighting. This one was cold, full of contempt, unspoken words, and feelings that were hard-pressed to come out.

"I DID NOT STEAL THE SERUM!" Luke roared. Everyone but Thomas flinched and jumped back. Papers and materials that had blown out of the house were flying everywhere, giving the place an eerie atmosphere. "I AM NOT ONE WHO WOULD RIP APART EVERYTHING I HAD FOR POWER! I ONCE DREAMT OF A KINGDOM—A PLACE THAT TOGETHER, OUR FAMILY, OUR POWERS, COULD MAKE—ONE WHERE WE COULD RULE FAIRLY. " Luke shuddered slightly, as if the words he spoke were scaring himself. "IF I HAVE A CHEATER, A LIAR, A THIEF, IN MY REALM…"

Luke shivered again, blinked rapidly, and stared at Thomas again. When he spoke, his voice was cold and quiet. "If I had someone like you there, I would rather rule by myself."

Then Thomas' fist came down where Luke had been standing—but he wasn't standing there anymore. He was on the floor, wildly looking for the sheet of the clues—the sheet Olivia had in her pocket.

Thomas roared and chased after Luke, but Jane swept in between them. Her hair was flying wildly, red as the fire behind her, as she stretched out her arms and stood between Luke and Thomas. "Luke!" Jane sounded scared as she addressed the wild boy. "What are you doing?"

Luke straightened up. "If my family thinks I did this to find the clues, then I'll act the part. Besides, what's done is done." He turned back to the forest floor. "If all is gone, rather one of us should find the clues—then, say, Katherine or Thomas."

Katherine flew to console Thomas, who was looking as if he were going to plow down Jane to get to Luke. Luke returned to attacking the floor feverishly, throwing handful after handful of paper to the night sky. The once peaceful family was shrieking insults and screaming pleas to each other. All Olivia could do was tighten her cloak around Madeleine and herself as she watched numbly.

Then she saw him.

A dark figure, half in and half out of the shadows. The horse he was riding whinnied and pawed the ground nervously, dangerously close to the fire.

It was Damien Vesper.

And Olivia was on her feet, shrieking out her agony and fear—she had to protect her children from the Vespers, she had to warn them…

Damien caught sight of Olivia, spoke a quick word to the other two murderers Olivia hadn't noticed, and all three rode off into the night.

Behind them, making the smoky shadows of demons, the fire burned.

_M:Mommy…_

_O:Maddie, this is the 5__th__ time you've asked me to do something while I'm writing. Now you may go ahead._

_M: Katie, Luke, Tom, and Jane abducted Daddy._

_O:ABDUCTED?_

_M:Well, Luke had a pair of crutches, but what happened was Jane was mad at Daddy for punishing her, Luke was mad at Daddy for not helping him against Jane, and Tom and Katie were mad at him for not letting them right. So they snuck down while we were concentrating and wrapped Daddy in a blanket. Oh, here comes Luke!_

_L: Well, I calculated the place you would least suspect Daddy to be. Jane designed the temporary house, Katherine used her homemade soundproof material, and Tom managed to carry Daddy there._

_O: WHERE IS YOUR FATHER?_

_L:Er…_

_O:__**LUKE!**_

_L:Maybe he's stuck inside Jane's closet?_

_O: Oh no…_

_M:Yeah, that's the 12 inch by 7 inch closet._

_O: Luke, I'm mad._

_L:I know._

_O: And I'm going to punish you. _

_L: I know._

_O: And you'd better run._

_L: I know._

_M: I never knew Luke could run that fast! If I didn't know better, I'd say it was Tom! Right mom…mom?_

_M: Well, since Mom's gone after their blood and Luke's gone somewhere over the rainbow, I guess it's the end! It'll still take a while for me to come in…I think. Mom won't tell me the story plan…grrrr!_

**Well, ladies and gents, this was a hard chapter to write. HARD TO CAPTURE FEELINGS IN WORDS(memo to self)**

**I'll attempt to stop plagerizing, but I might take the merest shadow of someone if run out of ideas completely. I'll give them complete credit, of course. If my language arts teacher tells me to "cite the source" one more time, I'm going to track her down to the ends of the Earth, stew her blood in chicken noodle soup, and feed it spoonful by spoonful to her ghost.**

**I love writing insults like that. **

**This story dedication is to Lapulta again, for not completely murdering me for last chapter. Thanks! XD**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3! As soon as I wrote Chapter 2 I started this, but now I expect at least 2 reviews for Chapter 2 to post it up. I've seen other people's standards, trust me. They're HIGH. So I'm waiting for 2 people to review if I post this up. Thank you, CahillTribute39! Your review heartened me…A LOT **** Lapulta, thank you again for not killing me! But I didn't expect you to find my story so fast…WOW. Are you psychic or something? Haha, just kidding. ADDED AFTER 2 HOURS, WHEN I FOUND YOUR REVIEW! Thank ye! Beta-ing…erm? CRISIS: I DON'T KNOW FANFICTION TALK. SOMEONE WRITE A DICTIONARY! I don't even know what Mary-sues are, though I have a rough idea…I'M SUCH A FAILURE!**

**DISCLAIMER: WHEN EVERYONE READ THE FIRST 2 BOOKS OF THE SERIES, THEY WERE THINKING "IAN IS A JERK!" THEN THEY READ BOOK THREE AND THEY THINK FOR THE REST OF THE SERIES, "WOW! IAN IS A ROMANTIC! I LOVE HIM!" NO OFFENSE TO IAN/AMY PEOPLE OUT THERE. IF I WROTE THE SERIES, I WOULDN'T BE SUCH A HOPELESS ROMANTIC.**

_L:WHY DID YOU WAKE ME UP?_

_T:WHY DID YOU WAKE ME UP?_

_K:WHY DID YOU WAKE ME UP?_

_J:WHY DID YOU WAKE ME UP?_

_O:Déjà vu? Anyway…to answer all of you, I woke you up so I wouldn't have to suffer the same fate as Gideon when I didn't let you write this chapter._

_L:WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP SOONER?_

_T:WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP SOONER?_

_K:WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP SOONER?_

_J:WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP SOONER?_

_M:Thank you, mother, for waking me up._

_O:And for that, Madeleine, you may stay in the room while the rest of you go APOLOGIZE TO YOUR FATHER!_

_O:So glad they left…they'll come back later to right their points of view. The abbreviations people come up with…honestly…POVs means point of views, which is incorrect grammar!_

_M: Mommy? Why are you laughing?_

_M:MOTHER CAHILL!_

_O:I'm sorry, it's just…hiding him in the closet? THAT. WAS. PURE. GENIUS. And he came up shaking all over…and he's the guy who wasn't afraid about sacrificing himself in the fire and doing wacky experiments that blew up his lab—TWICE!_

_M:HA! I KNEW IT!_

_O: ?What?_

_M:You ALWAYS side with us. By the way, I think Daddy's starting to realize you side with us. He's not going to keep his torture chamber away for long._

_O:Torture Chamber?_

_M:The one where you spin his "Wheel of embarrassing things to do in public."_

_O:Can't…breathe…Maddie!...stop…the…laughing…_

_O:That's better. Okay, Maddie, I'll make sure to keep away from siding with the kids._

_L, K, T, J,: WE'RE BACK!_

_O:How did the apologies go?_

_L:Well, Dad kinda hid under the bed as soon as he heard our footsteps._

_K: So then Tom grabs him by the armpits and pulls him out? Um…bad idea._

_T: Jane told me to—blame her!_

_J: I'm not the one who kicked him when he bit me, was I?_

_O: I'm just going to continue writing. _

Olivia lay very still in bed. If she closed her eyes and slowly ignored the sounds, she could imagine she had dreamed everything. The only thing that she needed now, to complete the vision, was the warmth beside her that was usually filled by Gideon. Today, if she didn't know better, she could almost say it was filled by his ghost.

Unfortunately, the sounds of fighting that echoed around the house usually had a more playful tone to them.

She could hear the slowly rising voices of Thomas and Luke as they carried out the wooden dinner table, and the sound of pattering feet—Katherine and Jane racing to join up to the others as the boys increased their pace with anger.

Olivia could feel herself become drowsy as Madeleine kicked weakly. The baby was making her very tired.

She closed her eyes willingly. She would welcome the quiet.

_L:I GET TO WRITE!_

_J:Why not me first?_

_O:Because he's oldest. We're doing age order, Jane._

_J:BUT THAT WOULD MEAN I'D BE LAST!_

_L:Too bad! And guess what?_

_J:Care to keep going?_

_L:Never mind._

Luke's mother had told them to take out the old wooden dinner table. She'd said she'd have a meal with the family. She'd _wanted_ them to be forced to work together. He'd attempted to wheedle his way out. But wheedling with someone who'd had the serum simply didn't work.

Luke glared venomously at Thomas. It wasn't HIS fault Thomas had accused him of the unthinkable. That was why he'd taken the diagonal corner from Thomas—he needed as much distance between them as possible.

That hadn't stopped them from arguing anyway. They'd put down the table and screamed, pounding their fists on the table so much Luke was surprised it hadn't broken. Then Katherine and Jane had come, insisting they help. Luke wasn't fooled. He knew Jane and Katherine didn't want them to fight. The also knew that Thomas and Luke wouldn't fight in front of them. Sometimes Katherine was too smart for his liking.

He glared toward the smoldering mess of his house. It was probably Thomas' fault, which would explain why he had been so defensive last night. He'd said it was Luke's fault to hide the fact that HE was the real culprit.

He glanced sadly toward the shack in the distance—their makeshift home, the emergency house Gideon had made long ago in case of the worst.

Then the mixed anger and remorse hardened into fury.

That had been his house.

That had been the place where they were at home.

Memories flooded back, unbidden—outside excursions, late at night, with Jane. Helping his mother bake cookies, occasionally stealing a crumb or two beforehand. Chasing Katherine around the house until his stomach ached with laughter. Stargazing with his father. Play-fighting with Thomas.

The same Thomas that had turned into a murderer.

Thomas no longer seemed to care about his father. Last night, he had been pretended it mattered. Today, he barely spared a glance toward the house, barely spared a word about his father. It was like he had never even existed.

He turned his gaze to the other sibling. In the brown dress, the hem brushing the ground, Katherine cast a small, sad, reassuring glance at Thomas, who nodded and smiled back. Katherine was on better terms with Thomas than with him—but even then he didn't expect her to back up a murderer. He knew that, like Thomas, Katherine suspected him of sabotage. That was the problem—sure, she was facts and figures, but in situations of common sense, she wouldn't see the truth if it slapped her across the face.

Finally, a small twinge of guilt appearing, he turned to the person across from him. She mouthed "It's okay" before turning back towards the table, her eyebrows creasing with effort. Her red hair was plastered to her forehead as she heaved the table closer to the center of the yard.

Jane.

Jane trusted him. Jane loved him. Jane shared everything with him. When Katherine and Thomas left them out of things, Jane and Luke would often stay together, plot their own things, make their own secrets. Jane was his last sister. His last sibling. He couldn't leave her…could he?

Then there was his mother. Sad beyond grief. Eyes that spoke of lost memories, she never seemed to live completely in the present anymore.

Olivia, however, loved all her children equally. She would never take sides. This posed too much of a threat. There was no reason in his mother to stay. This was the most logical, strategic way.

What about Jane?

Jane would switch to the side of the others, however. Luke was almost sure of it. She was too trusting, too believing. And Katherine and Thomas' explanation was already believable enough.

And if not…

Luke had never liked _feeling._ The trusting, everything. Because love was too much like fear—it made someone vulnerable. Able to be hurt. If anyone trains enough, they can learn not to be afraid of death. However, Luke had had enough close calls with love to realize that if someone you love was in danger, that could often affect you more than your own life. Since then, he'd tried to keep the feeling to a bare minimum. Except with Jane.

Jane knew everything about him. Even _mother_ didn't know how he was, what he was most afraid of. Jane did. Jane knew everything about him. Jane loved him. He loved Jane.

He didn't want Jane to be hurt by his decision. But would she be hurt more by him staying—and therefore being shunned by Katherine and Thomas? Or would she be hurt more by him leaving—so she could pretend he never existed and live a normal life?

The answer was obvious.

Luke dropped the table with a thump, wiped his brow, and calmly strolled back to the shack.

No one noticed his clenched fists. No one noticed the tears in his eyes.

_O:Alright, off to bed._

_J, T, K: WHAT? WE DIDN'T GET TO WRITE!_

_O:2 people a day. It's me and Luke. Tomorrow it'll be Thomas and Katherine. Maybe we'll squeeze in Jane if we've got space._

_J: Squeeze me in? SQUEEZE ME IN? WHAT AM I, A POSTSCRIPT?_

_M: HEY, AT LEAST YOU GET A PART AT ALL! I have to sit here and watch you guys write….IT'S TORTURE!_

_L:Don't worry, Mads, you'll get in soon enough._

_T: Besides, once you start writing, you're susceptible to the wrath of Jane. You don't want to get in the path of Jane's wrath._

_K: Guys, you're starting to scare her. Besides, Jane's not THAT bad._

_M: Katie's right, you know._

_L: Easy for you to say. You know her secret remedy. I can't believe you told me it was some weird drink just to see if I would get killed._

_K: We saw. You did._

_M:Maybe I'll lie again. It's so funny watching Jane hit him over the head with __Great Expectations__ while he pleads for mercy._

_O: Ah, the joys of a family…_

**Well, I just got on and 2 reviews…BOTH FROM THE ESTEEMED WRITER LAPULTA! SHE REVIEWED! I don't believe it! The famous, great Lapulta…REVIEWED MY STUPID STORY!**

**So, I had to prop my eyelids up for the Luke part. Don't blame me if my grammar, spelling, etc. was wrong.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, posting 4****th**** Chapter mainly because no one will see this if I don't update. Will Jane's unquenchable thirst to write be sustained? You have to find out.**

**REVIEW. PLEASE. I CAN NOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH. THERE IS NO POINT IN WRITING IF YOU DON'T REVIEW.**

**Enjoy!**

_L:Where's Jane?_

_J:Over here. Dad's done with his lecture on "how to get something without killing someone in the process."_

_T: Was the advice good?_

_J:Hard to say. He was getting so boring, I shut him in my closet halfway through._

_O:Jane, stop shutting him in your closet. Either that or expand it._

_M:Fat chance. You can't convince Jane of anything unless you offer her new oil paints in return._

_J:Katherine's the architecture here! _

_K: Well, the artist can draw up the plans while I continue writing._

Katherine and Jane pounded down the steps, slapping their feet as hard as they could on the staircase. Why their mother expected them to suddenly hate each other just because their siblings did, she could never know. Jane was the only one she could talk to about the new boy down at the square she had had a conversation with for 10 whole minutes.

Sure enough, the arguments ceased as the sisters screeched to a halt and mutely grabbed the other edges of the table. They didn't need to say anything. The boys knew that the rough translation was, "I'm sick of your fighting, act your age, and be quiet."

Thomas continued to fume.

Katherine smiled sadly and glanced at him. She wanted to tell him it would be okay, Luke would eventually have to give in and tell them the truth, Jane would eventually believe them. She couldn't say it in front of Luke and Jane, so instead she just smiled. Thomas nodded and smiled back, and she knew he understood.

Katherine and Thomas always talked among themselves. They had realized early on that their strategic and athletic skills combined would make quite a deadly combination, and had attempted to forge a better relationship. It worked. Katherine realized that behind the big, bad exterior there was a Thomas that could talk about anything and learn, live, and love just as much as anyone else. Thomas himself had figured out that Katherine was capable of feeling, and despite the fact she felt better with facts, she wasn't afraid to touch on "gray area" subjects like the mysteries of existence and love. Though Jane was a girl like her, no one ever understood her like Thomas, save for mother and father.

Their family had always been a bit odd—they could speak with eyes.

Luke and Jane were throwing glances back and forth even as Katherine thought. She had seen her mother and father countless times, beaming in front of the children whatever they didn't want to be heard. Katherine and Thomas also had this special ability—or rather, they earned it as soon as they began forging their bond.

Katherine made sure Jane and Luke were occupied before staring fixedly at Thomas.

**What?**

Katherine inclined her head toward her 2 siblings. **They'll try to, I'm sure of it. **

Yesterday, her mother had called them one by one into their room. During Katherine's turn, her mother had pressed a small scrap of parchment into her hand.

Katherine had run up to her room and opened her palm to reveal a set of clues.

7 precious clues—the secret to her own ingenuity. Hydrogen, silver, mercury, uranium, phosphorus, water, and myrrh. Katherine felt that her father and mother had given her these clues because they knew, to get these, she'd have to use every ounce of knowledge she had. None of the others had the curiosity and willpower necessary to glean these elements from nature. Only Katherine.

Katherine was special. She alone had these abilities.

Thomas had his own set of clues, just for him. From this, she could guess Luke and Jane had their own set of clues. And some of them had more than others, because some of the ingredients required more cunning, strength, genius, and imagination then others.

For some reason, Olivia had hidden her own 8 clues.

That alone was like a strike to Katherine's heart.

Combined with the betrayals of Luke and Jane, it was almost too much to bear.

Olivia had betrayed them all. Power-hungry, she had kept 8 of the clues for her own selfish reasons. She might have been planning to make the serum herself. After all, why would anyone keep the clues for no special reason?

But Olivia's heart was kind, and the shock of losing Gideon was very hard on her. Katherine knew that alone was enough to forgive her.

And Luke. He had murdered their father for the 39 clues. He had wanted them so much he hadn't even cared about the consequences. He'd torn the family apart for his ultimate power.

Jane sided with Luke. Jane would never sway to their side. Her loyalty to Luke was unmatched. Dimly, Katherine thought Jane might eventually agree, but not soon enough. She should have attempted to make better friends with her.

But Luke, Jane, and Olivia, for now, could not be trusted. Katherine knew. And when she beamed it to Thomas, she felt certain Thomas had reached the exact same conclusion.

She was not disappointed.

**We have to do something to stop them from taking it.**

**But what?**

**Run away, perhaps.**

Katherine almost visibly trembled. What was Thomas saying? Home was where her heart was. She needed the security of having one place she would always be loved.

But the clues weighed in her pocket, their burden heavier than ever. As long as the clues existed, and as long as the memory of Gideon's death still lay heavy on their hearts, the fragile bonds of trust were broken. Home was gone. The choices she had left were to guard the clues from the forces around them, or stay and succumb.

Katherine thought of Jane. Little Jane. Innocent and pure. But she would grow to be hurt by the clues. And if Luke took over, who knew what would happen to them?

Luke was out of the question.

Her father. Her mother. Her _family_. The word seemed so distant. Could it have been only yesterday she had smelled the smoke of the fire that would burn up their love?

**Katherine?**

Thomas' unrelenting glare pushed her thoughts out of her head. Katherine made an immediate decision. She had no other choice. She would not give in.

**I'll think about it. And, if I choose my mind over manner, I promise you'll be the first to know.**

**

* * *

**

_T: You took forever!_

_J: Here are some plans. I don't get why I had to do it._

_K: 'Cause you're an artist. C'mon, Tom. I'm hungry._

_O: I'll make some sandwiches._

_L: Turkey!_

_J:Ham!_

_T: Cheese!_

_K: Ketchup!_

_O:… I think I'll go make a couple million ham and cheese sandwiches with ketchup on rye._

_L:TURKEY!_

_O: Oh yeah, and a slice of turkey on each._

* * *

Thomas was scared. Thomas was confused. Thomas was angry. No more father. No more father. The words kept rebounding in his mind.

Thomas was a bit hyperactive. Thoughts came faster than he could say them, which was probably why he usually kept quiet.

Not today.

Today Thomas had literally let his words explode. He and Luke had had quite a loud fight. Katherine and Jane had interrupted. Katherine and Jane were sick of the fight. Couldn't they tell that they needed to settle this issue as quickly as possible?

But, Katherine being Katherine, he just couldn't stay mad at her for long.

Clues. Clues, clues, clues. Thomas could feel what Katherine called his "repeat syndrome" kicking in. The point where something was weighing on his mind so much, it waterlogged his other thoughts and blocked out everything else he might have been thinking about.

Clues.

Their family's love, their father's life, for 39 clues. Secrets to power, sure, but simple substances nevertheless.

That had been the price for his family.

It had been a price Luke had been willing to pay.

How could Jane be so blind not to see Luke as behind all this? How could mother be so trusting to the point she didn't even rebuke Luke or Jane for their rudeness at the very least? How could his family be so delusional?

Except for Katherine. Katherine was too logical, smart, and _right_ to be delusional.

She was right because she saw it from Thomas' point of view.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Katherine looking up from the table they were carrying to his own face, staring with an intensity that might have scared others.

**What?**

Katherine inclined her head millimeters toward Jane and the traitor. **I'm positive they'll try to steal our clues.**

Katherine, being Katherine, was probably right.

How could they prevent their murderer of a brother, child of a sister, and mourner of a mother from stealing their clues and using it to "help" the world, while hurting it in the process?

Thomas had felt Luke's words deeply yesterday night. Luke and Thomas had often talked together, about the "boy stuff" Katherine and Jane couldn't possible understand. One of the subjects had been Luke's castle in the sky: literally. Luke had dreamed of fabricating a kingdom of wonder, with no pain and no loss. And Luke, Katherine, Thomas, and Jane, the talented of the talented, would rule.

But yesterday, Luke had shattered his dream. He had given it up in anger. Now, if the realm was formed, Luke's first act would be to seek revenge. And the revenge would have been Luke's worst mistake.

Katherine and Thomas couldn't afford to let Luke take their clues.

Jane, a child. She couldn't possibly rule the world. She would probably fill it with flowers and all things cute and pretty. Jane was much too young.

And Olivia's world would be full of grief. It was understandable. She had lost her husband to flames of fire, her children to flames of wrath, and her being to flames of grief. But it would be a while before she learned to move on. And by the time the while was over, Olivia would probably already be dead.

**We have to do something. We can't let them take over the world.**

Katherine's "determined" look came upon her face. **What will we do?**

Thomas thought of everything he COULD do. Luke had too much cunning. He would wheedle the clues out using every form of reverse psychology he could. If Thomas and Katherine so much as stayed in the house, Luke would eventually find the clues.

**Run away, perhaps.**

Thomas had left the "perhaps" as an afterthought, leaving space for wiggle room. He didn't want to leave his home, but if Luke became as threatening as Thomas guessed, there was no other option.

Katherine's determination slid in and out of her face, a tumult of emotions playing across her features. She stared at Luke, Jane, the remains of the house, and the setting sun. Thomas knew that both of them had, in their late night chats, dreamed of visiting the exotic regions beyond. Egypt. Spain. China. Neither of them had dreamed they would have to visit them in this way.

Katherine stared back at him again, her eyes cold and fierce.

**I will think about it. And I will decide. And I promise, I will do my best to protect the clues. Whichever choice I make will be the best for all of us. Remember you are not alone, Thomas.**

The words Katherine beamed injected new heart into him, no longer fearing about what was to come.

**I will remember.

* * *

**

_J: FINALLY! NO MORE POSTSCRIPT ME! YAY!_

_K: Weren't you the author? "Postscript me" is not grammatically correct._

_J:WHO CARES? I GET TO WRITE!_

_T: Calm, Jane, calm. _

_L:You're one to talk. You're the one who shouts all the time._

_T: To exercise my vocal cords! You're the one who threw a hissy fit because mom forgot to place an extra half slice of turkey on your sandwich!_

_M: PEACE! PLEASE!_

_O: Madeleine, don't promote peace when you're being unpeaceful yourself._

_J:UNPEACEFUL IS NOT A WORD! AND I GET TO WRITE!_

_M: She's never going to get over that, is she?

* * *

_

Despite what others might have said, Jane was not young.

In mind, at least.

She was 10 years old in real life. However, 3 years of ultimate power at her fingertips had given her 3 years experience, and the tumult of last night had driven her knowledge of feelings up to 15 years.

Just because she was a child prodigy didn't mean she wasn't capable of anything else.

Jane glanced across from her at Luke, then diagonal from her at Katherine. The two siblings she could bear to be with. The one she could do without was the liar, the traitor, the murderer, the thieving Thomas Cahill.

She'd never thought she'd hate someone with her same surname.

Then again, she'd never believed in potions that could make you world dictator or brothers that could turn into murderers.

Yet another example of how life throws you the unexpected.

Katherine, Olivia, and Thomas thought of her as a little child, to be petted and toyed with, never taken seriously. Someday, she would prove them wrong. She would prove Luke right. Because Luke was right. And the truth always prevails.

Thomas and Katherine were having a little stare war down at their end of the table. Jane glanced at Luke, disappointed to find that he was obviously occupied with his own thoughts. Jane sighed internally and struggled to inch the table a couple more steps. How difficult. Judging by the intensity of the gaze of Thomas, Katherine, and Luke, they were thinking about yesterday night. Jane was more of a detail person. She saw no reason to dwell on all things unhappy.

And yet, as the table slowly yet surely crawled toward the middle of the yard, she couldn't help but contemplate her position. She was stuck in the middle, with her best sibling Luke and her understanding sibling Katherine on opposite sides, both trying to sway her to their side with the wind of persuasion. Both were equally strong winds that tugged with equal force. She was stuck in the middle. Luke knew it and hated her indecision; Katherine knew it and hoped feverishly she'd eventually win Jane over.

But Thomas had shown too far of a range of emotions to be trusted. Screaming and raging last night to quiet and in shock this morning to once again angry with Luke as they hauled the table up. Back to quiet, reserved, and contemplating as Katherine and Jane intervened. Jane was quite sure that the spontaneous changes of heart were due to overwhelming guilt. And Thomas couldn't have felt guilty unless he'd done something really bad. The only thing he could have done was murder Gideon.

See? Just because Jane got her creativity from serum didn't mean she couldn't be good at putting two and two together.

So Thomas and Katherine were wrong.

But Luke had changed. Mother had changed. Father was gone. And that made her position a whole lot harder.

Because now no one was on her side. Mother was too overwhelmed with grief to care, Luke was too brusque and uncaring to help. Father had gone—this had started the whole process.

Now that Gideon had passed beyond, Olivia and Luke had retreated into their own little shells (though for different reasons), and Katherine and Thomas on the opposing side, Jane was alone in the world.

The only one she could trust remotely was Luke.

And even Luke was beginning to desert her.

But this was all the more reason to cling harder to her last tether of family.

She would retain hope.

Because that was all she had left.

Jane dropped the table with a muffled thump on the ground.

If the wooden table was the family, two legs that were sturdy and strong would support the table well enough.

So Jane and Luke exchanged a single glance before Luke left to the shack. A glance that said, "We'll stick together because that's the only way our family will survive."

See? Jane was old enough to use her head.

* * *

_L: I sense emotional Jane coming. She was practically shedding quarts as she wrote this._

_J: YOU CALL A SINGLE TEAR QUARTS?_

_K: Luke has a point. You NEVER cry._

_J: Well, it was an important point in family history! I cried because my inner thinkings were all wrong._

_T: "Thinkings" is not a word._

_M: And Luke really did care, you know._

_L: Aw, don't cry, Jane. I'll take you to the kitchen._

_J: Is cookie dough ice cream involved?_

_K: Can I join?_

_T: And me?_

_M: Count me in the equation too._

_L: Aw, what the heck, c'mon!_

_O: Though none of you asked my permission, YES, you may gorge yourselves silly. Just don't ruin your appetite and don't get high on cookie dough ice cream._

_M: How do you get high on cookie dough ice cream?_

_O: The last time, Luke ate so much he sang "I'm a little teapot" in front of your father. In a squeaky baby voice. Wearing his rubber duck costume from Halloween._

_L: It was a dare!_

_J: Next time, I'll come up with something more humiliating. Don't worry._

**Yeah, yeah, I know, Jane's was a bit short. But I have no time. Chinese school test coming up. READ AND REVIEW. REVIEW. REVIEW. **_**REVIEW!**_** Sorry, a bit over enthusiastic. But I NEED reviews. I need to see a critique about my story!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm so happeeeeeeee! Cascading Rainbows reviewed MY one shot! MINE! I'm riding on euphoria, so I may as well sit down and write this!**

**Dedicated to Cascading Rainbows for inviting me to the fabled Madrigal Forum, and Syberian Quest for welcoming me there! Kudos, Syberia!**

_L:JUST ME! ROOM ALL TO MYSELF! ALL MY WRITING! TAKE THAT, JANE CAHILL!_

_J: Don't you dare rub it in. And don't you dare rub in the fact that—_

_T: That dad threatened to take your oil paints if you didn't behave yourself? THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE WAS PRICELESS!_

_O: Now come on, kids. Luke was promised his privacy._

_K:Where's Madeleine?_

_O: Come to think of that, I don't know…check the cupboard._

_K: Hi, Maddie._

_M: Hi. I'm sorry, but I wanted to see what Luke was gonna write!_

_T:Aw, don't worry, we'll see later, Mads._

_M: I hate all these endearing nicknames…_

_J: It is so liberating not being the baby of the family anymore!_

Luke woke up to a set of small bells ringing into his ear. It was connected to a large numbers of springs and other materials. He had stolen it from Katherine's room, and faithfully stood a brown sack on the pedal for a long time. As the spring slowly loosened, it would trigger a chain reaction, ringing a bell in his ear. He had estimated how much time it would take for his brother, sisters, and mother to fall asleep.

Luke clapped a hand on the bell, but the ringing was already beginning to slow. He didn't want questioning relatives asking what he was doing in the middle of the night, with a sack of basic provisions over his shoulder.

Slipping out of bed, he shivered. It was very cold out. Whipping a cloak out of his pack, he wrapped it around himself, enveloping himself in his fathers scent. It was comforting, but barely gave a sliver of hope to Luke, who was haunted by the guilt of what he was about to do.

The floorboard creaked ominously.

Luke immediately stopped, then shook himself and kept going. If he happened to make a sound, it would be better to run away from the scene than freeze in spot. Just because one floorboard creaked didn't mean all of them did. He had a lot to thank his new DNA for.

He hung tightly to the rails of the stairs, knowing the wood rarely stepped on in the corner would be best for minimal sound. Slipping on a pair of heavy boots, he opened the door and took a deep breath of wild, fresh air.

He paused. He listened to the wispy breathing of Katherine, the door-rattling snores of Thomas, and the sighing sort of inhalation that was his mother. Then, slowly, almost sadly, he crept back upstairs and peeked into Jane's room.

Large pieces of paper littered the floor, covered by the ever-present sketches. Jane was curled up into a tight little ball, her hair flying everywhere. She did not make a single noise as she slept, barely breathing at all. Luke chuckled to himself. That was so like Jane.

Then he sighed. He tiptoed to the bed, careful to make as little contact to the rustling paper as he could. Crawling toward Jane he plucked a single strand of hair from her forehead and patted it back in place.

Luke bent down, kissed Jane lightly on the cheek, and flew as quietly and quickly as he could out of Jane's room. He whisked down the stairs and out the door, closing it firmly but quietly behind him, before he could change his mind.

Luke fled through tall grasses and an assortment of Katherine's specimens, knowing he was not safe until he managed to escape the front yard into the woods. He cast periodic glances behind him, but dared not slow down. Finally, he managed to huddle behind a tree. Hardly daring to breathe, he cast a last glance outside and saw a light flicker to life in Olivia's room.

He should have known. His mother barely slept easily these days.

Without a backwards glance, he ran. Over bushes, under rocks, behind trees, into town. Crawling into a dark alleyway, he glared unhappily at a group of drunken thugs already inhabiting it before running past, into a smaller, narrower gap. Squinting as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, he spread his cloak out on the ground and lay onto it, trying to ignore the sharp rocks in his back like knives, and the cold seeping into him like ice.

* * *

As soon as Luke had veritably sprinted to the ship and paid his fare, he collapsed into his cabin and closed his eyes. He had not slept a wink last night.

Luke opened his sack and pulled out a piece of parchment, reading while trying to take his mind off things. It was rubbish, but it was the only reading material in the bag that wasn't Jane's. And he would not remind himself of what he had done to his family, himself, and Jane.

* * *

Despite the fact home was far away, everything here reminded him of it. The sketch of a sunset in his room reminded him of every single one he'd watched with his mother. The small boy in the other cabin had eyes like Thomas. The girl was almost as bookish Katherine. And every time he opened his sack to get something, his fingers always sought out his last bit of home—Jane's countless short stories. The sea reminded him of adventures he'd said he'd wanted to take with his father.

What would his father say if he saw the desperate, fleeting voyage that was meant for a happier Luke Cahill?

* * *

Luke staggered onto the port in relief. A week had passed since he'd gone on the ship, and he still hadn't gotten his sea legs. Travelling was obviously not one of his strong points, but he'd get used to it. He was positive Jane and Olivia, if not the others, would look for him, so he'd sure get enough experience. Although the thought of running away from anything unnerved him a bit.

The first thing he did was make to the nearest stable in town, finding directions from anyone and everyone he could, and pick out the fastest horse. He gulped at the thought of stealing, but donned a black cloth over his face and swung onto the horse in one fluid motion when the stable master wasn't looking. One swift kick, and he was on his way to London, where he could hopefully find a place to get away from all the unwanted noise, unwanted people, and unwanted memories.

* * *

_J: …Luke?_

_L: Oh, it's you Jane. Can you tell me what happened after I left? I never got around to asking, and I really want to know._

_J: I can do better than tell._

_L: Oh really?_

_J: I can do tons better. I can write._

* * *

Jane screamed.

There was no shock in the scream, as there should have been. There was pure anger vented inside though, driven out by the sight of Thomas lounging carelessly in his room, lifting increasingly heavier objects—namely all of Luke's things.

"I can't believe you!" she screeched. Even—oh, for heaven's sake—even KATHERINE was looking, although the girl had no special love for Luke.

Thomas merely shrugged, plunking a glass paperweight on top of the heavy sheaves of parchment already in his hand. _Luke's_ parchment, labeling countless different strategies, tricks of the mind, and stealthy nothings.

"I've no business with Luke Cahill. He is not my brother anymore. I have no reason to look for him."

"That's not true!" she shrieked. "THAT'S NOT TRUE! HE'S YOUR BROTHER—HE'S YOUR ONLY BROTHER. YOU LOVE HIM JUST AS MUCH AS YOU'D LOVE ME, OR MOTHER, OR KATHERINE, OR FATHER—"

The breath was temporarily knocked out of her as Thomas raised his face and Jane got a good look at his eyes. The eyes were oh-so-very _cold_. There was no love, and no matter how much Jane searched, she had the truth laid out right in front of her.

She hated herself for admitting it was there.

She shook herself.

"You HAVE to love him. You HAVE to." She might have been going hysterical. She paced in front of him. "You two are BROTHERS. You HAVE to help us search for him—you know him better than Katherine does."

Thomas curled his lip, but still refused to glance at her. "He's not my brother. Luke Cahill is not my brother."

Jane paced the room angrily, nearly tearing up in frustration. She HAD to make him see.

"Blood is thicker than many things, Thomas. Blood is thicker than water, for instance. So, therefore, you can't contradict me when I tell you…"

Jane stood in front of him, watching him stare nonchalantly at the glass orb on the papers.

"Look at me, Thomas Cahill."

Thomas didn't.

Jane slapped her hand across the stack. In one fluid motion, the paperweight had gone flying, carrying the papers with it. Glass shattered and the papers flew everywhere.

"Blood is thicker than serum, Thomas. You know it, and I know you know it."

Thomas didn't reply, staring from the floor to Jane repeatedly, a dazed expression on his face. He looked like a sleepwalker waking from the dead. And then he looked into Jane's eyes again, and Jane looked back. And though there was still no love to be seen, she saw true remorse in there. Remorse at what had happened, and remorse that he could not love Luke like Jane wanted him too. Like he wanted himself to.

She stared at Thomas curiously, all hate gone for the moment.

"Do you?"

Thomas glanced up again. "Do I what?"

"Do you love him?"

Thomas turned back to the mess on the floor.

"No."

She believed him. And she hated herself for believing it.

* * *

_L:..Jane? Can I trust you won't kill me?_

_J: Oh, I know. I suppose I'm really crying quarts. But that was just SO SAD!_

_T: Aw, sorry Jane. Though I suppose I should apologize more to Lukey._

_L: Whatever forgiveness I was ready to hand you disappeared when you called me "Lukey."_

…

_L: Joking, guys. Seriously._

_K: Well, Thomas, did you know he went to London?_

_T: Well, I did guess he would go to the mainland._

_O: AND YOU NEVER TOLD US?_

_T: Aw, come on…I was fuming at the time!_

_M: Mind you, I walked in on him sniffing Sharpies the other day._

…

_T: They smell good!_

_M: Inhalants…wow, Thomas…_

_J: So, I guess I should hide my Sharpies for the time being?_

_L: C'mon. I know where to hide them._

_K: No fights, no mess…how could this be our family?_

_O: I want to end this on a happy, sappy note for once, so I might as well get off before they start arguing again…_

_J, T, K, M, L: WE DO NOT ALWAYS FIGHT!_

_G: And cue WWIII…knew it was too good to last._

**R&R?**


	6. Chapter 6

**REVIEW. PLEASE.**

**Haha, not that desperate, but quite desperate enough.**

_J:AND THIS IS WHERE I FINALLY WRITE! YIPDEEDOO!_

_L:She's so happy she's making up words? Jane, the ever grammatically correct author, is MAKING UP WORDS? WHAT HAS THE WORLD COME TO?_

_T: Well, let me see, it's almost a year to 2012, so I'd say, if the Mayans are correct…the world has to be in pretty bad shape if it's going to end a year from now._

_M: You sound so Katherine-esque, Tom. Maybe your Sharpie markers are the problem?_

_K: You know, he DOES sound like me. It's so creepy…maybe I should start sounding like him._

_J: The Case of the Switched Identity…catchy title. Maybe I should make that a book._

_K: Oh yeah? And who will it be by? "Jane Cahill?." And then, in the About the Author section, what will your birth date be? Oh, I know! 1497 to present day!_

_O:That'd go well with the publisher…_

_J: Wow…my family consists of lunatic asylum escapees…

* * *

_

Jane sat up suddenly, straight as a stick. Maybe, in the state of half-asleepness, she had just been dreaming, but she could have swore…

But Luke was in his room. He was. Because she could hear him up already. He was always up at early hours, scratching away on paper…

Screaming his own name?

No. That was mother. Which meant Luke…

Jane jumped out of bed and slipped on her shoes, unaware until later that they were on the wrong foot. Running her fingers distractedly through her hair, she jumped down the stairs 3 at a time—remarkable feat for a 10 year old—and sprinted out the door. She needed no explanation. Olivia would understand.

Running through the forest, ducking under tree branches and occasionally snagging her dress on random bushes, she sprinted out of the dark trees and staggered onto a well-worn dirt road. Cooking vegetables and meat sizzled on pans, the smell wafting to Jane's nose, making her mouth water. She paid no attention, racing around town, until she heard a clanging bell. A ship was leaving port.

A ship…

Jane sprinted to the dock, but it was too late. The ship was already many feet away from the dock. There was no way anyone could reach it now, save for Thomas. And Thomas would never.

Jane stared helplessly as the ship disappeared over the horizon, carrying part of herself with it.

* * *

"NOW!"

Jane turned slowly around. Even SHE couldn't feign deafness with something as loud as Katherine and mother combined screaming in one ear.

"What?"

Katherine leaned back from her position behind Jane's ear and placed a well-used hand on her hip. "It's practically midnight. You've GOT to go to bed and get some sleep. C'mon, we'll look for Luke in the morning."

"Well, if you ask me, we shouldn't look for Luke at all."

Thomas came lumbering out of the house, looking bleary eyed. No doubt he had been woken up by the loud noises of Jane's two family members screaming for her to get into bed and get some shuteye. Well, whatever they had coming for them, it was their own fault.

"Luke's gone. You've searched for almost—what, 2 days? If he's not coming back, he's not coming back. He ran away. Get used to it. Plain and simple—he was guilty, his guilty conscience made him run away. He killed father. There's no reason we should care about him anymore."

Jane ignored Thomas and turned back to the tall grasses. The air was heavy with the sun's last rays, stifling Jane until she almost felt like she couldn't breathe. Fireflies swayed haphazardly through the air as she stomped down a last bush. She needn't have felt hopeful. Luke wasn't there either way.

Ever since her… _interesting_ conversation with Thomas, he had began avoiding her. He stayed shut up in his room, biding time doing who-knows-what. Katherine, too, was disappearing with Thomas into his room for increasingly longer intervals of time. Once, Jane had snuck by their room, and, in the five seconds that Katherine's supernatural abilities had not detected her, she had heard Katherine telling Thomas that "maybe we should wait," to which Thomas replied with an angry, "If we're going to do it, it has to be now."

That did not comfort Jane in the slightest.

Jane was not a fool. Loss of this type might have driven some people crazy, but certainly not Jane. She had never been crazy before. She did not intend to be crazy now.

She knew by now. And if she wasn't 100% sure, she was sure enough to guess. If the combined efforts of Katherine, Olivia, Jane, and the whole of the town could not find a boy with a large reward on his head now, they could probably never find him. Which meant Luke really had deserted Jane.

Was that even possible? Because Luke and Jane were two halves. Jane&Luke. Luke&Jane. Was it possible to split a body in half?

Apparently so.

But Jane wasn't going to let it happen without even trying. If one part did something drastic, the other half would probably eventually follow along.

* * *

Jane stared at the ceiling, trying to find shapes and drawings in the swirly patterns on the wall. She glanced out the window again, gazing hard at the stars as if trying to read her future in them. Then she sat up and brushed her hair out of her ear, listening intently for any form of life awake in the house. After verifying none, she threw off her bed sheets with a dramatic whoosh, sighing in relief. She'd done the routine 6 or 7 times before she had been sure the others were all asleep.

Jane slipped her feet into her leather boots, about 2 sizes too big. Oh well, she'd wear extra stockings to fill the room, killing two birds with one stone while slightly helping the packing issue. Slinging her coarse sack over her shoulder, she stood on her tiptoes and lightly crept across the room. She placed one foot directly in front of the other, slowly, trying to muffle the thumps of the shoes. Reaching the door, she opened it as quickly as possible. The door was liable to creaking ominously, especially at midnight hours such as these.

She stepped across the threshold and shut the door slowly. It clicked in place with a satisfying snap.

Jane turned away from the house and walked through many a trampled bush, all too aware she was walking the path Luke had walked just days before.

As she disappeared into the trees, blending with the shadows, she did not look back.

* * *

Night was the right time to run away. No one was around to ask annoying questions, or alert anybody.

Yet night was also the worst time to run away. If, by any chance, someone was out, the whole "suspicious hour" thing gave the worst away. People were very cautious at night, Jane concluded.

Striding to the dock, she glanced around quickly before taking her bag off her shoulder. Throwing it on board with an almighty heave, she tiptoed lightly up the groaning gangplank. Sneaking to the nearest cabin, she squinted out the number 7 on it. Good luck omen?

Jane sure hoped so. She would need it.

Opening the well oiled door, Jane was relieved to find a bed instead of the old pile of straw some people got—beds usually had less vermin. Dumping her bag onto the floor and just missing the chair, she crept back out, leaving the door open to air out the smell of ale.

Creeping to the Captain's Quarters, she knew she was taking a risk. She could have done it tomorrow—or later today—but she could not risk being thrown off board, and she could not let her conscience bug her for not paying for her passage.

That was the difference between her and Thomas, she realized.

Hoping against hope the hinges were oiled, she opened the door. She needn't have worried. The snores were so loud that Jane could barely keep herself from clapping her hands over her ears. Rummaging into her pocket, she took out a couple of gold-and-silver coins and placed them on the bedside table, next to a slip of parchment Jane had managed to fill—_for Cabin 7, Jane Cahill._

The Cahills were well-respected for Gideon and his ability to escape the plague. Jane hoped feverishly that honor was enough for the captain to make up for a few pieces of change she had not been able to find.

Honor was all she had left.

* * *

Sometimes, people cast odd glances—a ten year old girl travelling alone—but because she was Jane _Cahill_, one of the four who would carry Gideon's legacy of survival, no one questioned her. But the looks were unnerving, to say the least, so Jane took to spending long periods of time in her room, door shut against the smell of the sea, to draw great heroes and conquerors and write adventures with happy endings. A reoccurring name in the happenings was Olivia. Another one was Luke. Because she was guilty for deserting her mother. But Olivia would understand. She would know that Jane felt like she was trapped in a small box on the island. She would know Jane had to test her wings in a world without the discrimination of her now hateful siblings.

She would know. Because she was her mother.

* * *

Jane was the first onto the dock in England. Smiling, she raced around trees happily. People were everywhere. Untested waters to explore. Who knew where her talents could get to now?

But first, to London. The city where all her dreams would be made possible—her power, her ambition, and her other half.

* * *

Olivia could feel Madeleine protest as she raced around the house one last time. Finally, she collapsed on the bed. Madeleine kicked weakly. Olivia gave a watery chuckle.

"Can't you let me mourn in peace, Madeleine?"

Madeleine drove a small fist in reply, as if to say, "Sorry, no. My job is to keep you happy."

Olivia laughed again at the thought of a baby talking before birth.

"They're gone," she whispered to Madeleine. "Your brother and sister—gone. You would have loved Jane. You would have laughed at her caricatures and stories. She'd probably put you as the fair maiden Madeleine, many knights battling for your hand in marriage. And Luke would have taught you everything he knew about how to outfox your relatives."

But if they had stayed, Olivia knew there would have been too much tension between the children. So in a way, if she wanted to preserve her family, she'd have to let them go.

"God bless them," she whispered to herself.

* * *

Katherine glared contemptuously at Thomas. "I agree as much as you do, Thomas, that they'll come for us and our clues. Even so, there's no reason to be in such a hurry. We have a roof over our head, and a steady supply of food. Wait until we earn some money so we can make a living. Then we talk."

Thomas stood to reach Katherine eye to eye. "It has to be now. Jane has left already, only days after Luke. It makes sense they'll return very soon, the rate things are going. And they'll have something big. Luke promised me he'd bring enough to take down an army."

Katherine shot back another glance that clearly said what she was going to speak. "What about mother?"

Thomas sighed. "Look, Katie, you know as much as I do that mom's already sad. She knows we can't wait around. That's like inviting Luke to come kill us all. Alone, Luke wouldn't harm mother. I know him. She hasn't done a wrong to him."

Katie stared. "Katie's been an off-limit nickname, _Tom._ You know that."

"Then don't call me Tom."

"I'll call you whatever I want, and you'll let me."

Thomas tilted his head slightly. "And why is that?"

Katherine did not try to measure to his standards. Instead, she turned away. "Because I'm agreeing to run away with you."

The door slammed viciously as Thomas stared. Since when had her sister been that easy to win over?

"Oh," he murmured feebly to the empty room. "that's why."

_J:Thomas…did you type that?_

_T:What?_

_J:I GO TO THE BLEEDING BATHROOM, AND YOU WRITE SOMETHING ON THE ALL-MINE PAPER?_

_L:He's published it as well. Good luck trying to take it off…_

_J: Let's see…shutting him in the closet…_

_K:The closet I improved?_

_T: Ooh, is that the closet with the King-size bed?_

_L: Almost as big as our whole house?_

_O: I was exaggerating, but I guess we could fit a bed in there if Jane shuts you in._

_G: What's going on?  
J: Oh, hi dad! Quick question—what tight spaces do you know of in this house that could inflict extreme pain?_

_G: I guess you could use the garage…why?_

_K: Have you exercised lately, Thomas?_

_T: Yeah, why?_

_L:Quick suggestion—RUN. FOR. YOUR. LIFE._

**R&R?**


	7. Chapter 7

**R and R.**

**And R.**

**Which means…**

**Rate and Review and Read.**

'**Cause not many people read.**

**I think.**

_J: Luke, the dare's on._

_L: Apparently Jane wants me to act like a horrid old miser. I think she favors her great great great great grandson Charles Dickens a bit too much._

_J: Just hurry up!_

_K: I can't believe you made me go to college…AGAIN._

_O: Well, since you look around 18 or so, I figured you should._

_T: I pity the person who's the best in their class._

_L: I beg of you, Katherine, please, enter Jeopardy! I'm sick of TV dinners and small houses!_

_G: What's up with him?_

_L: And you, Thomas, enter a weight lifting competition! Money!_

_O: Okay then…_

_L: MY PRECIOUS!_

_J: Oh, hush up! That's Lord of the Rings! That's not part of the dare! It's not my fault you go crazy whenever I confine you in small spaces for large periods of time!_

_K: Well, when large periods of time means a week, I'd feel the same way. Speaking of which, COLLEGE DORMITORIES ARE SMALL._

_O: Well…I do suppose you know everything already…so I guess you don't have to…_

_K: YES!_

_O:On one condition! Get on Jeopardy. We really need to get Microsoft Office 2010!_

_J: Luke, I give you permission to stop acting crazy. The dare is over._

_L: Thank GOODNESS. Jane, you really are cruel._

_J: Why, thank you! I appreciate it. Speaking of which, Thomas is going to experience it firsthand if he doesn't begin to write._

Thomas slapped a card down onto the table a bit too hard, making it bounce a couple of times. Katherine cringed, obviously feeling that the way Thomas was venting his anger on the house was doing nothing to help the subtlety of their escape.

"Go again."

Katherine squinted at the hand of cards in the dim light of the candle, then selected one, plucked it out with her forefinger and thumb, and lightly slid it onto the pile. Thomas sighed and pushed the sizeable stack of cards toward Katherine—she had won the hand again. Katherine scooped it up neatly and deposited the large stack of cards into the steadily growing hand.

Thomas put his cards on the table and smacked a hand to his forehead. "Next time, don't tell me to play cards with a mastermind like you."

Katherine grinned, then opened her mouth wide in yawn-position. Then she stood, stretched, and grabbed a golden pack off the floor. "We should get going. Any later and I'm going to fall asleep."

Thomas slid off his bed, if it was possible for someone of his size and bulk to slide anywhere. Grabbing a blue sack off of his table, he grimaced at the weight. He'd had quite a fight with the mountain of stuff he wanted to bring.

Katherine almost laughed, in a sad sort of way. "Mom's going to go crazy. All of us leave, one after another, in the space of a week."

Thomas frowned. He didn't find a single funny thing about it.

Katherine strode gracefully to the door, twisting the knob in one deft motion. Opening it to the dark, cold, velvet night, Katherine held the door. "After you."

Thomas waved a hand over the flame, putting it out. He didn't want another fire hazard around the house. He'd had enough of fire to last a lifetime.

Skipping out the door and running down the stairs, he bounced on the heels of his feet, waiting expectantly for Katherine to hurry up and get downstairs. Suddenly, Katherine began to speak in a rather loud voice. Thomas' attitude transformed instantly from happy to perplexed to suspicious. What was she doing?

A candle flickered to life and a person dressed completely in white descended the stairs, holding the light as far away as she could from herself, like she was scared of the light, the flame, or both. It didn't take a genius like Katherine to figure out who it was.

"Mother."

Olivia Cahill's face was gaunt, her hair billowing around her in an almost non-existent breeze. Cloaked in bright white, she looked like an angel and a ghost wrapped in one. Her face was gaunt, and spoke of unwanted memories that would be with her forever.

"Thomas, what are you doing? Must I lose all of my children in such a small space of time?"

Her eyes pooled into sad gray puddles as tears began to slowly fill her eyes. Thomas wanted to feel human and find the right words to comfort her. Unfortunately, he'd already left that behind.

"Mother, listen to me. Luke and Jane will come any time now. Our clues. They'll try and steal them. We have to hide them."

The lost lady shook her head. "No. I have to protect you. I don't want you to get hurt in the outside world."

"We'll be fine, mother. We can't stay here forever. Luke will come and kill us if we do. If he leave, he won't know where we'll go. We can't hide. It's the only way."

Olivia stood stonily, still and silent.

"Please."

She began to shake her head. "You're my last children. I can't just let you all…"

As she trailed off, tears began to over flow and stream down her face silently.

"Mother. Please."

Katherine lightly floated down the staircase behind her mother, watching her intently. The whole of the house was drowned in silence as Olivia bit her lip, looked behind her, then down at the floor. She took a shaky breath. The crickets sang their lullabies into the night as she looked up again, her eyes glinting both sadly and in a wary manner.

"You have my blessing. Go."

Katherine stepped forward, holding out a hand. "Mother, I—"

Olivia backed away, her eyes widening in fear. "Go. Don't make it harder for me."

Katherine paused, then walked to the door, flicked her wrist onto the brass handle, and left, swinging the door shut.

Thomas looked at his mother for a while, then coughed quietly and whispered, "You could come too, you know."

Olivia raised her head. "What?"

"Protect your own clues. We know you kept some. You could hide your own from Luke. He'll come and find you, eventually."

Olivia narrowed her eyes. "He wouldn't. I know Luke like you don't. He won't harm me."

Thomas shrugged. "Believe all you want."

Olivia nodded once, still glaring at him angrily. "Good. I don't need you to make my decisions."

Thomas took a step forward. "Tell me then, why did you keep them? Why do you need the clues?"

The ghostly angel swung her face down, her mixture of gray and black hairs covering her face as she scrutinized the floor. When she looked back up, her eyes were cold and her expression confident and determined. "I kept them for the ones who wouldn't leave."

She stormed back up the stairs, leaving Thomas with a question that would haunt him forever and a candle burning into the night.

* * *

Striding confidently into the busy streets of London, Luke glared. So many people were here. How was he supposed to find what he was looking for when the people practically drowned out the sky?

Without looking down, he slapped away the hand of an unfortunate pickpocket. When he had his power, he'd make sure to deal with the likes of them. Why didn't they understand masterminds like him?

The pickpocket hobbled out of Luke's line of sight, glaring. Luke smiled cruelly. Maybe that would teach them that he was no ordinary person.

Of course, the pickpocket returned. And even Luke, for all his skills were worth, was not Thomas-like enough to dodge the fist that the thief's friend threw at him.

Many people described fainting as black hazes surrounding their line of vision. What they didn't know was that it was so instantaneous and surprising that it was impossible to remember once it was over.

Clichés were all too common on streets where bards, minstrels, and impossibly wealthy royalty walked.

Luke, in the coming days, would be exceptionally grateful for the latter. Unfortunately, at the present moment, with his consciousness slipping in and out of his grasp, all he could be exceptionally grateful for was that the thugs had finally left.

* * *

Jane ran like a deer, gracefully, through the streets and crowds. Dodging people left and right, she stopped in a semi-open clearing and shaded her eyes from the sun, searching the street for an inn, or at least a roof where she could stay without breaking law or being in danger of being thrown out. Finally, she contented herself with an old inn, in painted red letters that reminded Jane faintly of blood. The accommodations consisted of an old straw-stuffed bed and a table, which was really all Jane needed at the present moment. And, of course, a slice of cheese, and wafer of bread, and a single leaf of lettuce for meals. She really would have to ask for use of the kitchens.

She was nearing London now. She'd lived like this for quite a while. At first, she'd shoved her conscience aside and picked a couple of pockets for an extra silver coin or two. Only from the rich, though. She'd never forgive herself if she picked from the poor.

At any rate, she'd been getting along quite well, for someone who'd left their home town with nothing but some paper, pen, and a couple of extra articles of clothing.

* * *

Thomas and Katherine walked hand in hand to the ship, squeezing each others hands for comfort. Calmly, Katherine reached for the rail of the gang plank. She seemed to despise the water and mold growing between the planks of wood, stepping lightly over every patch of green with a disgusted look on her face. Thomas, however, felt a bit more daring. Reaching for the rope on the side of the bridge, he swung on with surprising agility and heaved himself aboard, catching his backpack by the straps and narrowly avoiding a run in with the Irish Sea. Laughing happily as the salty spray misted over his head, he took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the sea, the tang of seaweed, and a couple of drops of water up his nose. Coughing a bit at the latter, he had to laugh. Adventure awaited beyond the endless water. And he knew that this type of adventure would have a happy ending.

Katherine didn't look so sure, but who could blame her? The trials they had been through would be enough to put a damper on anyone, but there's always a silver lining. Right?

* * *

Olivia sighed again. She felt like screaming or shouting, anything to stop the endless silence.

She was the only person in the house. The whole place was silent, eerie, as if no one was there at all. Like she was just watching it from far away, an abandoned house on the fringes of an abandoned forest at the very edge of a town consisting of about 200 people and a few old soreheads.

If she burned THIS house down, no one would notice.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on being a nothing.

Because being anything, even a nothing, would be better than this.

_L: I can't believe I had to act crazy._

_J: I didn't ask you to quote Lord of the Rings._

_L: You did about as good as that. It wasn't Thomas or Katherine who insisted we watch "The Return of the King" that many times._

_J: Sorry for the inconvenience, my precious._

_T: Are you mocking us?_

_K: What is up with our dysfunctional family?_

_M: The fact that it's dysfunctional says it all._

_J: Aw, what the heck. I'm just going to go watch "The Twin Towers" again._

_M: Have you even read the books?_

_K: She hasn't._

_O: How do you know?_

_K: I used them for that one experiment on ink types and their water-resistance._

_J: Without my permission? Ooh, I'll get you for that!_

_G: Here we go again…_

**Worse writing than usual. This is because my mother has grounded me so I'm doing this last minute at two o' clock in the morning when I'd rather be sleeping. So yeah. R&R. Sorry for all them disappointment. **

**My fingers can barely reach the keys. Thank goodness for spell check and…**

**Mom's coming. Got to go. Bye.**

**R&R?**


	8. Chapter 8

**ARGH!**

**My other series, Percy Jackson, is GONE! FANFICTION ERROR 2! Anyone else have this problem with their other stories? Happening more and more…GAH. Warriors too. Anytime I try to update or post something new, it says to email **_**Fanfiction Error 2**_** to the supporters…with some email system I don't have…grrr.**

**R&R?**

**PS~ Lapulta…I'm saving my hyperventilation to the end, don't you worry.**

**PPS~ You'd better appreciate all the trouble I went through on Wikipedia, trying to find accurate information.**

_L: Jane?_

_J: Quiet, Luke. I'm trying to read this._

_T: NOW WHAT?_

_K: Hm…reading over her shoulder… oh, really now, Jane… you're reading that AGAIN?_

_L: She seems to have a thing for those 2 authors._

_T: Granted, their stories ARE pretty good._

_M: JRR Tolkien and CS Lewis?_

_K: The one and only. You know, Maddie, I'm quiet surprised you're not that excited._

_M: About what?_

_T: Did mom not tell you?_

_M: Mom…TELL ME._

_O: Well…I think you come along next chapter._

_M: I GET TO WRITE?_

_L: Yes—NO, DUMBO! You're born! You didn't think you were __**born**__as a 12 year old person that could read and write, did you?_

_J: LUKE, DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO BE QUIET? Oh, just hurry up, write, and stop bothering us!

* * *

_

Had his whole past life been a dream? Or maybe he was just hallucinating. Or had he died and come to life in heaven?

Close enough.

Luke swiveled his eyes around the room in a motion his mother, father, and tutor would always call "rolling his eyes." Honestly, he was just looking around, not being "repugnant!"

The reason he was not sitting or standing up to get a better view was either because he was too tired, lazy, injured, or just plain dazzled by what he could see with his limited line of vision.

Talk about rich and famous.

Red. Red filled his vision. And not blood red, it was royal red. Rich, velvet red and gold furniture, walls, everything. Even the sunlight filtering through the stained glass became a muted shade of scarlet.

Looking up at the ceiling, which was easily the closest thing to see, he saw plaster roses jut out from the ceiling in gold against the silk roof of red. The floor seemed about the same. The sheets he were lying on seemed delightfully light and cool. Finally finding the willpower to sit up, he hoisted up the window and was dimly aware of a cast on his arm.

The forest outside reminded him wonderfully of _home._ Streams trickled happily, the silhouettes of dryads and wood nymphs blending with the shadows. Their haunting laughter echoed over the hills as Luke took a deep breath of dew, grass, and wood. Turning back inside, he mentally slapped himself. He'd had his moment of nostalgia. Now it was time to turn to the more pressing matters at hand.

His throat felt incredibly dry. Groping at the table beside the bed (the _mahogany_ table, with roses carved on the knobs of the drawers), he grasped a vial of water and downed it in one gulp. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he realized his clothes had been replaced by soft, silken garments that were reserved usually for nighttime, when no one was around to laugh their head off at the funny appearance it gave him.

Luke stepped off of the (red and gold) carpet onto the (redwood) floor. Slipping a bit, he thumped to the ground, saving himself from breaking another arm by grasping the head rest of a nearby (mahogany) chair seconds before.

Seconds later, a small, stout lady burst in, carrying another pitcher of water.

"Mistur Luke Ca'ill?"

Luke pulled himself to his feet, all too aware that his usual graceful air had deserted him with his injury. Glancing suspiciously at the maid, he scowled. "How do you know my name?"

The maid waved her hand lazily. "Ship ticket in yur front pocket, mistur. Name was Luke Ca'ill. I'm Annie, by the way." She bobbed in a clumsy curtsey. "Pleased ta meet ya, sir."

Luke rolled his eyes—for real this time—and stared at the ceiling. "Thank you for gracing me with your presence. Now, if it doesn't trouble you too much, you're welcome to tell me_ where the heck I am._"

Annie stared for a moment and then laughed, a great, bellowing laugh. "Why, ain't it obvious? What with all them fancy furniture and all? I tell Ellen, I do, "if this guy ain't the most richest guy in all o' England, yur free to skin me alive an' throw me to the English Channel!" And she believes me, she does." The little maid smoothed her apron and turned her face up back toward Luke, who was becoming more disgusted by the minute.

"You're in Archduke Charles' home, you are."

Luke received a violent shock from his brain. It appeared he hadn't been hallucinating.

"Archduke…Charles?" he asked bleakly. No, no, no, this was NOT good. He wanted to be a SOLDIER, for pity's sake, not some low-down street rat the _King of Italy_ had taken under his arm.

What higher power had condemned him to this?

"Well, ya see," piped Annie, sitting at a long (redwood) table and plunking down a silver platter. "Archduke Charles, see, he comes to England 'cos they got talk of more matches between that li'l lady Mary and him."

Luke sighed with exaggeration, pulling himself into his own chair. "Don't we all know it? It's not like the pages of the king _haven't_ been breathing it down our necks day and night."

Annie slapped her knee and laughed heartily. "You dig alright, lad! Either way, them talk of creating that there marriage, he comes down, and what does he see? Why, he sees this little, bloodied body lying in them ditch on the side of the road down yonder." Tilting her head toward the window, the girl was completely unaware of the fact that a dwarf like her was calling someone normal like Luke "little."

"So he calls a couple of them servants to get you here—just snaps his fingers and 'ere they are—and he calls them physicians to tend to you. I tell Ellen, I do, "if that Charles ain't the most kindhearted person in all of England, well, ye can skin me alive and—""

"—throw you in the English Channel, yes, we know. Now, do you mind telling the Archduke to bring me back my travelling bag? I've got to leave."

Annie gazed reproachfully at him. "Why, you'll do nothin' of the sort! The blessed man, he healed you, he did! You ain't gonna run off on him, are ya? Nope, you'll listen to his orders, and his orders are to wait a year 'til your injuries are better, now."

Luke's jaw dropped unceremoniously.

"A YEAR?"

* * *

_J: No more gloating now, Luke Cahill. You won't be writing for quite some time._

_L: And why is that?_

_T: Because nothing of great importance happens for a year, save that—_

_K: THOMAS CAHILL! DON'T YOU DARE GIVE IT AWAY!_

_M: Hurry up, Jane! I want to see my birth!_

_O: That paints the most disturbing image in my mind, for some strange reason…

* * *

_

Jane opened a leather bound book. Worn and tattered, she ran her hand over the carefully traced calligraphy that was Luke's.

Allowing her mind to flash back to a couple of days ago, she sighed.

_**Jane raced through the door, flinging it as wide as possible. Olivia was still searching with wild-eyed panic.**_

_**Jane flew to her mother's side, murmuring comforting words. Then, when she had finally coaxed Olivia into the chair and stopped the crying, she told her mother the story of the chase, the ship, and the port.**_

_**Olivia hiccoughed and said nothing.**_

_**Appearing in a state of shock, Jane patted her one last time and left. There was nothing to be done for her. What had Luke been thinking? He would kill her mother if he kept this up.**_

_**Creeping to her room quietly so as not to disturb Katherine and Thomas, Jane collapsed onto her bed in a creak of bedsprings. Sighing, she rolled over and a sliver of brown caught her eye in the midst of the papers that littered the floor everywhere.**_

_**Jumping off of the bed, she fell to the floor and began to heave away the sketches in a fashion that looked a lot like what the neighbor's dogs did for their bones. Cringing in disgust, she shivered at the thought of what Thomas would say if he caught her. This had better be worth it.**_

_**She was not disappointed.**_

_**Raising a worn leather book to the light, Jane blew what was left of dust on it, for dramatic effect if nothing else.

* * *

**_

_L: Dramatic effect? Ha ha._

_J: Hey, it would have been pretty cool._

_T: Whatever, Jane. Just hurry up!_

_K: Yeah, before Madeleine makes another crack about "watching her birth."_

_M: Am I really that disgusting?_

_O: No, you're just not thought highly of.

* * *

_

_**Opening it, there bore a simple title.**_

_**Journal of Luke Cahill**_

_**Day the 6**__**th**__**, June, in Ireland, the country of my birth.**_

_**Jane heaved it close as quickly as she could. The resounding cloud of dust billowed out of the pages, reducing her to a fit of coughing.

* * *

**_

_L: Blow dust off the cover? _

_T: Might as well blow dust off the pages. It does a lot more good._

_K: Oh, shut it, before—_

_M: I'M NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT WATCHING MY BIRTH!_

_O: You just did._

_J: I'm going to continue writing while pretending I didn't hear that. _

_L: You might as well acknowledge the fact that it's wrong on so many levels—_

_J: Shut it, Luke Cahill.

* * *

_

_**She didn't need to read it to know what it was about. The sixth of June was a date that would be imprinted in the minds and hearts of everyone in their family and would never leave until the day they died.

* * *

**_

_T: Correction: It would stay with them on the day they died and remain with them while they were in their afterlife, whether it be heaven, limbo, reincarnation, etc._

_J: Just shut up. Stop interrupting me. I'm basking in my glory and I don't want you to spoil it._

_L: …basking in your glory? _

_K: Exactly what did you accomplish again?_

_M: Please, don't bring IT up again._

_O: Jane, if you don't start writing now, we can aggravate Madeleine further._

_J: Nevertheless, SHUT. UP.

* * *

_

_**Would any of her family ever forget the fire—

* * *

**_

_T: No.

* * *

_

–_**the heartbreak—

* * *

**_

_L: No.

* * *

_

—_**the breaking of the family—

* * *

**_

_K: No.

* * *

_

—_**or the death of their role model and their life?

* * *

**_

_M: No._

_J: ARRRRRRGH!_

_O: Melodramatic Jane was talking in the flashback, am I assuming correctly?_

_O: Jane?_

_O: Jane._

_O: JANE?_

_L, K, T, M,: Mom? Quick suggestion?_

_O: What?_

_L, K, T, M: R. U. N. _

_O: That spells "run." What…?_

_O: Jane?_

_J: …_

_O: Uh oh…_

**LAPULTA MENTIONED ME IN HER STORY LAPULTA MENTIONED ME IN HER STORY ...YEAH.**

**So, after like a million checks on Wikipedia, another dozen on this random Coat of Arms website, and a couple hundred crackers with pepporoni and shredded mozzerela cheese, this chapter is up!**

**R&R?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the long wait. But first, Fanfiction Error 2, and right after I recover…boom. FF Error 1.**

**No one reviews…**

**Somebody. ANYBODY. Please, please, **_**please**_** review. I'm depressed and angry and guilty all at the same time. Reviews make me marginally happy. PLEASE! ANYBODY! **_**HELP!**_

_J: Dear story, I have decided that I will keep you posted on the stories of the day. This way, no one will be able to write except for me, which will aggravate the others exceptionally, but never mind. Today I—_

_T: Jane?_

_J: Sorry for the interruption, that was Thomas writing over my shoulder. Rest assured, story, this will be the last you hear of Thomas today. Moving on, this is not a diary, or a journal. I will call you story, because it is the story of my modern life. In addition, I—_

_L: Jane?_

_J: That was Luke. I will make sure that no one befouls you again, rest assured, dear story. But where was I? Oh, yes. Now—_

_O: Jane, you may leave now._

_J: Pay no heed to mother. She is just mad because yesterday I almost—_

_O, L, T, K, M: __**JANE! NOW!**_

_J: SHEESH! Fine! I am sorry, story, but it seems, because my family is so cruel, I—_

_All: __**JAAAANE!**_

_O: Move out of the way! Now!_

* * *

Bounding off the ship, Thomas cheered as his foot reached dry land. The journey had taken months, and he was very glad that, at long last, he was on something that WASN'T going to bob up and down continuously. At the very least, he was glad he wasn't sea sick. The residents of Cabin 4 must have been exceptionally mad with their daughter for the last couple of weeks. Thomas would have been too.

Laughing his way onto port, he screeched to a dusty stop right next to a very unhappy fishmonger. Glaring at him, the tips of his long, drooping mustache quivering slightly, he turned back to calling. "Fish for sale! Get them now!"

Thomas abandoned the heavily accented seller as he bounced backward and forward across the street, still not completely certain that the Earth wouldn't suddenly start rocking back and forth like a bigger version of a boat.

"_Would you stop it?_"hissed Katherine. "We came here to _not_ pull attention to ourselves!"

Thomas paid no attention, to high on his adrenaline to answer. Racing back and forth through street after street, he turned back to see Katherine's progress and hurtled right into yet another street seller. A large, moldy wooden crate containing a pile of beets fell to the Earth with a crash, contents racing everywhere.

"Those be very rare turnips!" said the man in a heavy Portuguese accent. "They cost many money!"

Thomas made a show of turning his pockets inside out. "Um, I'm new here, so I don't have any of your currency yet…" he trailed off as the man's hand came up. Thomas felt almost certain he was going to be slapped.

Then, a small white hand lowered onto the sunburned wrist. Thomas let his eyes trail all the way to the face.

She had pale skin and warm brown eyes rimmed with tints of hazel that pointed slyly at the end, like she was plotting something mischievous. There was a small smirk on her face, framed by dark sienna locks. A pointed nose, and a couple of splashes of freckles were also visible. A gown made of old cloth reached to her feet. She smiled.

"Father," the girl scolded gently. "It is fine. He is new. He does not yet know the value of them. We can compensate." She slowly lowered her hand. "Please."

The man closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly walked back to the stall as the girl led Thomas away. As soon as they were out of earshot, Thomas sighed in relief. "Thanks for taking care of that."

The girl smiled sadly. "Father was not always like that. He just curdled a bit over the years." She shook her head, as if trying to get rid of a memory. "I'm Louisa," she smiled.

Thomas stuck out his hand. "Thomas…Cahill," he replied, tacking on the last name. This girl couldn't possibly be one of Luke's spies.

Louisa laughed. "You are strange, Thomas Cahill. In a good way. I saw you today on the dock." She let go of his hand and began to turn around and return to her father. "I will see you again," called Louisa. "People here always meet with the ones they want _somewhere_ in the town."

Thomas heard a small box open in the back of his head: _You've finally got yourself a girl, Thomas? And you needed to go all the way to Portugal—the ones in the neighborhood just weren't good enough for you?_

It was his father's voice.

What had Louisa said? _People here always meet with the ones they want somewhere in the town._

Lowering the hand he had been absentmindedly waving, Thomas trekked his way back to Katherine. And as he did, he searched around in his soul, and found that, in his encounter with the elfin lady, her burden had lessened slightly.

* * *

Jane stumbled into the rat-filled streets of London with an air of unrest, suspicion, drowsiness, and cautious victory. Finally, after weeks of the cheap hotel accommodations, she had finally grasped the chance she had been waiting so long for. A nauseating sort of smell wafted to her nose as a lady dumped a chamber pot out into the streets. Ducking away from the stench, Jane ran down another alleyway, pulling a face at the doorway of a nearby pub. Running as far away as fast as she could, she stumbled into a street, only to find she was alone. Almost immediately, she felt a hand grab the hood of her robe and pull her into the crowds surrounding the two sides of the road.

"What's going on?" She shrieked wildly as people pressed around her, the smell of sweat and tears overwhelming her, almost drowning her.

"Haven't you heard?" asked a nearby boy. "Archduke Charles is coming on his way to the castle! He's going to go woo the Princess Mary!"

Ducking into the crowd, pushing as hard as she could, she raced to the front and managed to squeeze a space. Admittedly, she was quite interested in the new match Henry had found for his lavished child.

The first person she noticed was a thin man with classic "royalty" clothing with twinkling eyes and curly brown hair and a small, pointed goatee.

The second person she noticed was a boy, older than her, with dark black eyes and soot colored hair of the same shade.

Jane knew him so well it was frightening.

Without a second thought, she ducked back through the crowd and ran. Just ran as far away as she could from the past ten years of her life.

But not before Luke's dark black eyes caught her own brown ones.

As she ran, the brown journal of Luke Cahill weighed harder than ever on her back.

* * *

_J: Does he really have to write?_

_L: HA! Victory! You have proven the great Jane Cahill wrong!_

_T: Luke…just hurry up. Maddie's gonna wet herself in excitement otherwise._

_M: Am I really that excited?_

_K: Yes. Write, Luke._

* * *

Being marched through the streets on those giant movable chairs that Gideon and Luke had always made fun of was actually very comfortable.

Sitting behind Archduke Charles, whom he had only seen once, he surveyed the crowd coldly, keeping the excitement inside to the bare minimum. Thousands of people, staring at him in an interested way, wanting to know him more—soon, he would have more than thousands. Someday, there would be more, and all would be under the rule of Luke Cahill.

Then, a flash of violent red caught his eye.

Cricking his neck, Luke's eyes glinted madly as he turned to find a small Jane Cahill standing in the crowd, cheering on the duke with everyone else. Then, her eyes caught onto Luke's own.

There was a flash of indecision, anger, and pain—then she disappeared. Gone. His last tie to his family had run away at his very face.

It took Luke a second to make a fleeting decision. Leaning sideways, he whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Annie. "I'd rather leave."

The maid, who had become his personal assistant, nodded and turned to the servants that were hoisting up his chair. Within seconds, Luke and Annie were left for a walk home.

* * *

Whisking into the room, Luke nodded to Edward and shrugged of the thick cloak he had managed to extract from his travelling bag, despite Charles' protests. He handed it to Edward, bowed, and walked up to his room, looking for a place to sleep.

A dark, cold place where he, for once, wouldn't be able to dream his reoccurring nightmare.

* * *

_O: My turn!_

_M: What are you writing about?_

_K: You'll see…_

_T: *Mutters* We don't need you to wet your pants in excitement…_

* * *

Olivia gathered the bundle in her arms, shaking slightly.

So here was Madeleine.

The only thing left of her family was a shell—her future crushed to pieces before she was even born.

Olivia was going to raise her right, regardless.

Looking down at the girl, she smiled sadly as it cooed from inside the swathed blankets.

Then Olivia gasped.

On her head, there was a soft sort of downy hair—but it was red. Fire red. Jane red. Her mouth was set in a comical smile, like the one Luke might have worn on his better days. The girl had Katherine's small nose, plump cheeks, and dimple. And, when she kicked, her strength almost matched that of Thomas.

_It's a good thing she's strong, _thought the mother. _She'll need it, to make it far in this world._

But the final blow—the one that made Olivia set Madeleine down and burst into tears—was her eyes.

Gideon Cahill's eyes.

* * *

_M: I HAVE COME INTO THE WORLD!_

_T: See, this is __**exactly**__ why we didn't tell you beforehand!_

_O: Yes, you came into the world. About 500 years ago, might I add._

_J: Why didn't you let me continue my journal?_

_K: Hey, I didn't get to write at all! _

_L: Yeah, Tom got her slit, what with him obsessing over his darling Louisa and all._

_T: Real funny, Luke. Weren't you the one who fell in love with that old—_

_G: THOMAS! Don't give it away!_

_L: Oh, hey dad! Since when did you come in?_

_G: Since Maddie made that disturbing comment!_

_M: Not everything I say is disturbing! What I said before wasn't disturbing!...Oh, wait, it __**was**__ disturbing, wasn't it?_

**R&R?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay, if Lapulta is reading this—Yes, I'm on hiatus—FROM THE FORUM. Not writing. So…:P**

**R&R?**

_J: AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!_

_T:…Well, hello to you, too._

_K: Wouldn't it be so convenient if Jane stopped screaming every time something happened?_

_J: AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!_

_M: Well, wouldn't you shriek if it happened to you?_

_J: AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!_

_K:… Point taken. Just don't do that to me._

_T: Would someone please explain to me what's going on? I don't sleep in the bedroom with you girls, so I don't know what made Jane tear out of there at 3 o' clock in the morning!_

_M: It woke us all up first. And Jane was holding __**it**__ at arm's length, talking about maiming Luke…_

_K: Ah, that reminded me so much about the old days, when we still hated each other's guts…_

_J: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!_

_T: JANE! Chill…Now, will someone PLEASE explain to me what's going on?_

_M: It has something to do with Luke not being here._

_K: Actually, I helped hide him…he says he's writing in his hiding spot, he'll attach it to the bottom of the page when he deems it fit to come out again._

_J: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! KATHERINE! TELL ME WHERE HE IS—NOW!_

_T: *Wince*_

_M: That is to say, never._

* * *

Thomas raised his head higher, hoping to catch a nonexistent breeze and hoping to catch a glimpse of the elfin girl he had seen yesterday. Catching sight of a fat old bartender returning with another crate of wine, he sank again as the door swung closed again with a _phfffft_ sound as the speed of the door forced a gust of wind into the greasy pub.

As the doorknob creaked with age again, Thomas looked up again. Over the table, he saw Katherine snort audibly and pull a book out of a rucksack inlaid with golden thread. Another straggler. An old, balding man with spots of age on his skin, tanned and seedy. Holding open the door for another person.

Then she walked in again.

Thomas brightened and waved, and Louisa waved back. The scowling turnip seller looked pointedly away, and Louisa caught his red face. Having a quick conference in Portuguese, the man turned his back and stormed angrily toward another empty yew table. Louisa pulled up a third chair from a nearby table, smiling at Thomas with an exasperated air.

"Hello, Thomas Cahill."

There was a flipping sort of slam. Katherine had conjured up a cloud of dust by hoisting the cover of a heavy book on Archimedes toward the end, aiming the grit pointedly at the pair at the last second.

"You told her our _last name?_"

"Well…yeah…" Thomas winced as Katherine turned murderous amber eyes from Louisa to Thomas in one swift motion. "I mean…what could go wrong? She's obviously not…I mean..Well…Look at her! She can't possibly be—"

"Don't tell me what a person can or can't be, Thomas. I thought a brother couldn't be a murderer. I was wrong. Don't make me lose faith in humanity again." She turned once again to Louisa. "Look, madam—I don't know who you are, what you do, or what connection you have with my family…"She glared pointedly at Thomas. "But if you are what I think you are…and my logical deductions are barely ever wrong…And if you…_let slip_ anything about our family name to _anyone_, _anyone at all, _you will find yourself beating your family away from the doors of death. Am I clear?" She leaned over the table, trying to scare the brown eyes away from their steady stare.

Louisa bowed her head. "I am quite sorry you do not trust me. I thought we could have been friends. I mean no harm to either of you—I was simply trying to become acquainted with you and your brother. But, if you wish your name to be secret…" She tilted her head to the side, smiling in a friendly way. "Then so be it. Let us put this incident behind us." She held out her hand, open and accepting.

Katherine glared at the hand as though it had personally insulted her, then nodded slowly and took it, shaking it briefly. The smile on Louisa's face widened, and eventually Katherine's own glare slid off. Thomas knew that Louisa had gained Katherine's trust, which turned out to be quite a remarkable feat. Katherine knew how to hold a good grudge, and how to hurl a good threat. Anyone who was accepted so quickly must either be a really good person…or a really good actor.

Katherine smiled again to show there were no hard feelings. "I'm sorry, Louisa, Thomas—I'm going to study a bit more. Maybe my essay will convince someone to hire me as a scientist again." She looked at the book a bit more, running her hand over the calligraphy penned carefully into the front cover. "Then again, maybe I could hire myself. I'm interested about the reaction the phosphate has to…" She trailed off, grinning sheepishly and turning open the book again.

Louisa grinned toward Thomas. "And what is your specialty?"

Thomas glanced toward Katherine again. "Her opposite. I prefer exercise and physical work."

"Really?" Louisa glanced at him curiously. "My father owns the big vegetable plot on the other side of the hill over there. Maybe you can take on a job for him?"

"I'll think about it—but what hill? Where?"

"You're not familiar with the local geography, are you? Here—" She tilted her chair toward Thomas, explaining the landmarks.

Once or twice, Thomas could have sworn Katherine gave them both a knowing smile.

* * *

_K: I didn't think you'd caught those looks._

_T: Wait, so I was right? Why were you smiling?_

_M: Isn't it obvious? Honestly, I will __**never**__ understand the stupidity of the male gender…especially you, Thomas._

_J: You've gotta admit, she's right, Tom. You aren't the sharpest tool in the shed, eh?_

_T: Well, for a world-class author, you've got to be comparatively stupid to say "eh," right?_

_K: I notice you're purposely avoiding the word, just because you've pinned the crime on Jane._

_M: You know, "eh" actually is a word in the dictionary…listed under interjections._

_J: Take that!_

_T: Is the world seriously out to humiliate me?_

_K: Nope, just the people closest to you._

* * *

"WHAT?"

Jane stared incredulously as the sun settled lazily in the sky, illuminating the top of the bald man's head to a brilliant shade of gold.

"Sorry, miss, but it's the law."

"You mean, the _unofficial _law that everyone follows out of _tradition_, not to mention that this so called _law_ is completely discriminating against half of the good people in this city!"

The man stared at Jane as she stopped her pacing in front of his face. His long, drooping mustache quivered slowly, and then an old, toothless mouth popped open and he let out a long, deep belly-laugh that made Jane grow more infuriated with each boisterous _ha!_

"_**WHAT?**_"

"Miss, I mean, seriously—_look_ at yourself!"

On command, Jane looked at her arms and legs. Admittedly, she was not looking her best—her willowy dress had patches of red melding with the green. On her request. Maybe, with these omens, Luke could come and seal the broken tears in her heart. Shaking off the memory, she glared at the man and instinctively crossed her arms in a defiant manner.

"I see nothing wrong with myself that should look wrong to you."

"You are a girl, miss. A ten year old girl who seems to be here solely to beg. Here— " He fished a coin out of his pocket and tossed it in the hair. Instinctively, Jane reached for it. It landed, King Henry up, in the palm of her left hand.

"Take this to your father—good for a day's meal to suit a family of four. But don't come back for a job, dear. Thank you for a laugh. But no for a job."

He turned away, leaving a dumbfounded and angry Jane in his wake.

"This is _not_ over. Not for a second, you old, doddling fool." Jane muttered angrily under her breath as she watched the fat, walrus-like man hobble over the bridge toward the distant theater.

* * *

_J: Can you believe it? "Doddling" is such an old word, it doesn't even register in the dictionary on Microsoft Office Word any more._

_M: Well, I suppose a lot of words are old fashioned. It's like they've…gone extinct._

_T: Like Luke will go extinct? As in, died off?_

_K:…Was there another meaning of extinct that I didn't know existed?_

_J: Nope. Speaking of which…_

_M: NO. JANE. NOT NOW._

_J: Awww…_

_T: And isn't it just __**such **__a coincidence that Luke is coming here right now?_

_All: …_

_K: Actually, it is._

* * *

Dark. Pitch black night settling over the place like a blanket. Covering the gilded mansion, fading off in the distance as Luke seemed to be pulled away from it. The house of Archduke Charles.

Then, the red drapes hanging through the glass seemed to grow and swallow the house. Flickering with orange, Luke was pulled back a couple of feet, only to find that the house on fire. Flickering, bricks and stones were eaten up in a roaring inferno as Luke watched helplessly.

Screams. Loud, heart wrenching screams. One of them was quite obvious—he'd heard it once, when the butler to the Archduke carried up a bowl of soup that Luke had rigged with a spider. The Archduke—even in his abject terror, his sense of quiet did not leave him. Only when he was out of hope. Only when he was about to die.

Another one carried through the air, slicing through it sharply. Old, frail, scratchy. Annie. Pleas of help began to die off, then came back with frightening intensity.

And then, clearer and louder than the others, ringing with a tremor like a bell. Terror. High-pitched, loud, and girlish. He did not need to see who it was. A fiery mane of red hair flung wildly in his mind's eye as the voice of Jane crackled out of life, replaced by sparks and the crumbling of walls.

Then, two dark shadows faded in front of the fire. Draped in black, they murmured quietly. One of the dark, lumped shapes turned the hood toward Luke. Catching sight of his face, the man laughed, then straightened with his companion and threw back his hood.

Thomas.

The other threw back her own hood, but Luke did not need to look at the amber eyes and golden hair to know Katherine.

Luke lunged at his siblings, but was thrown back by some unstoppable force. Silence creaked through the air, absent except for the flickering of fire.

Then, Thomas and Katherine flickered out of focus, then reappeared. They seemed to draw closer and closer, shadows blending, in and out, in and out, until they were one person. Black hair, slick, and piercing eyes. Luke could place the person, but lost his focus and missed it. He threw his hood back on and laughed—cold, calculating. Icy. Undoubtedly in triumph.

He leapt, high, into the trees. With that, a rush of wind blew through the forest and blew him away. Riding on the wind, too swift for Luke to ever catch.

And then, he woke. Just as he always did. Reassure himself that he was safe, maybe get a bit of water. He would remind himself it was not real, to put it behind him.

And then it would brand itself into his head once again the next night.

* * *

_L: Bye, Jane._

_J: NO! LUKE CAHILL, YOU COME HERE RIGHT THIS SECOND, OR I'LL— I'LL—_

_K: What?_

_M: You already threatened to wound him to the point of death…yeah, there's only so much that come after that, most of which would make us have to change the rating of this piece._

_T: For the last time, someone please explain to me what is going on?_

_M: Nope._

_K: Oh, and he said "for the last time…" That means he's not going to bother us again!_

_T: Why do I even bother trying?_

_M: Because you're an idiot._

_T: That was a rhetorical question._

_K: You actually know the word rhetorical?_

_M: Nope, he's probably just heard it used in context and thought it "sounded cool." That's his excuse for everything._

_T: Shut up. Write._

_O: __**I'll**__ write that, if you __**don't **__mind._

_M: Actually, I do…but fine. Go ahead._

* * *

"Mother?"

Olivia smiled. "Yes, Madeleine?"

Madeleine proved to be quite a remarkable child. Though she showed no signs of any particularly special talent that should have come from the serum, she could speak as though she had decades of learning, and had ingenuity and imagination beyond her few years.

Yes, Olivia had given her the serum. Most unwillingly. But there was always the chance that the plague would come back. Olivia would not take that chance. She would not lose her last child.

The little, toddling girl stumbled her way toward her mother, who was staring at the sky. After the storm, the two would sit together outside—Madeleine looking for rainbows in puddles, Olivia looking for rainbows in the sky.

"Mother, you missed a rainbow." She pointed up at the streak of color. "You never really concentrate, do you?"

"No, Madeleine, I don't." Her voice grew softer. "I think about your sisters. Your brothers. Your family." She smiled. "You would have loved them so much. Luke would probably have helped you play pranks on the house until it fell down—he'd help you strategize them all. Jane and you—creative minds, both of you. Katherine would have loved to help you tinker with all the household materials. Thomas would have helped you learn to walk, then run, then jump, and on and on. And of course, where would you be without a father?"

"Here. I would be here. Exactly where I am now."

"Oh, Madeleine, you would have loved them all so much." She looked back up to the heavens. "All so different—but same at the same time. What made them hate each other so?"

"Mother, what does it mean to be different, but same?"

"Well…take a look at that rainbow," said Olivia, waving her hand at the splash of color splattering over the horizon. "Jane always described them as different colors—Thomas blue, Luke green, Katherine yellow, and Jane herself green." She paused for a moment. "She said those are what made them all love each other, yet be so different. They helped each other grow, they owed it to themselves to love each other. That's what Jane said." Olivia stared.

"So which color would you and father be?"

"What?"

"You said that a family is not complete without parents."

"Well…"Olivia thought for a moment.

"I suppose your father would be orange, like fire. Always free, destructive if he was in one of his worse moods, but warm, kind, and loving when he was happy…which would be always."

"Well then…I guess it's a bit fitting he died as he lived. Like a tribute to himself."

"He did not have to die, Madeleine. Just because it is the best way to die does not mean they should die whenever it is convenient."

"I'm sorry, mother. I simply thought that, should he have to die, that is the best way for him to leave the world. Someday, mother, when you can once again think like a child, you will understand. Continue. What color are you?"

"Hm…"Olivia thought. "Well, your father—he said I was royalty. "Fit for a queen," I think he called it. He loved us all so much, he thought himself so lucky. In reality, I think we were the luckiest ones, to have him as a father. So…purple, I would say."

"And me?"

"That is for you to decide, Madeleine. You decide your future—you alone can decide what you will be, what destiny you will have. You alone can decide what you will do to give to the beauty of the sky—or the Earth."

There was the still, quiet crashing of the waves on the shore for a while. The reds, purples, oranges of the setting sun watered into a navy blue, stars winking in and out of existence like pinpricks.

"I have decided."

Olivia looked down, curioius. Her daughter was so young, and already deciding what path she would take. "What is it?"

"Black."

"Black? Black is the color of villians, evil, fear. Why would you choose black?"

"But black is the color of the backdrop of the sky. Black is needed for the people to understand."

Olivia turned to Madeleine, watching as the girl's eyes swarmed hungrily among the stars. A small half-smile turned on her mouth as her eyes gave off the reflection of the pinpoints of light.

"Without black, people cannot appreciate just how white the stars are, just how bright things can be in the darkest of times. I have no special talent, mother, unlike my siblings—and you know it. But it is good, because without that, I can learn to appreciate the simple things in life, and let the others realize the value of the unimportant—for without the unimportant, there is no one important either. The rainbows, the sun, the stars—they all need black, for without it, no one can appreciate the true beauty of them. People can detest it as much as they like, but they _need_ it, because it keeps the balance. I will show them how they have turned wrong, and how together, they can light up the sky and paint it into something brighter than ever. They need me, mother, to appreciate each other."

Olivia hesitated. "Why not white, then? It is also the great canvas in the sky—and much more bright."

"My life is dark, mother. Life itself is full of darkness. But darkness is needed to appreciate the white. It is fitting, once again."

"Just because something is fitting does not mean it is mandatory, Madeleine."

Madeleine turned back to Olivia, her eyes piercing in a kinder way than Luke's, but piercing all the same. She smiled again, in a way which made Olivia feel more like the learner than Madeleine.

"Oh, but mother—when you learn to think like a child once again, you will understand."

* * *

_J: Okay, great, I've got to go now, bye!_

_K: Hey, woah, Jane—I know what you're doing. No, I didn't hide Luke in the freezer._

_M: …the freezer?_

_T: And exactly __why__ would Luke hide in the freezer?_

_M: Reflecting on that, why would only Jane, Katherine, and Luke know why?_

_J: The thing he put in my bed…was…_

_K: Don't make us change the rating!_

_J: Err…something dissected and __**frozen.**_

_T: …Ah…_

_M: Okay, done with that subject! Now, who wants pizza?_

_K: …I kind of lost my appetite._

_T: Yeah, no thanks._

_M: Come on…they come with breadsticks!_

_T: Oh, alright…I suppose I'll come…_

_K: I'll still pass._

_J: Good! I still need to interrogate you on Luke's whereabouts!_

_K: I'm sorry, but since Luke happens to be the spy among us, he is better at that than you. And he's not here to help you now._

_J: Oh, fine…Maybe the pizza will lure him out, anyway…_


	11. VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE

**~* HIATUS NOTICE *~**

Okay, so you probably all saw this coming. I suppose I was on informal hiatus notice _anyway_, what with not updating since the last century or so (large exaggeration). But I might as well make this official.

I may not be updating (Paint the Sky/Chatroom fit for the Gods) for quite a while.

Okay, let me recap. Maybe 'quite a while' isn't right. 'Indefinitely' is more like it.

There are two drastically different reasons, and it depends on whether you're reading Chatroom Fit for the Gods_ or _Paint the Sky.

**WHY I WON'T BE UPDATING CHATROOM FIT FOR THE GODS**

If you refer to the first chapter, you'll see that I wrote I had 'about ten pages' of it done, which wasn't quite true. It was actually 14 pages, which I thought would be more than adequate to curb off any necessary work until Chapter 10. The thing is, I didn't realize that '14 pages' related to 'about five chapters' in Fanfiction, because there are multiple pages in a chapter and I was an ignorant newbie back then. Combined with a mixture of sloppy handwriting, homework, and a bit of procrastination which I duly apologize for, I ended up finding myself in a desperate struggle juggling two different multi-chapters and a variety of plot bunnies by Chapter 4. Nevertheless, I managed, and I was fully willing to complete it until I was bombarded with a series of seperate hiatuses for different reasons.

Hiatus 1) Fanfiction broke down.

Hiatus 2) I was lazy (I'm so sorry...)

Hiatus 3) I was in China, and Fanfiction was blocked in China.

And now I'm on Hiatus 4.

There's a reason for this one.

As my friend's birthday draws ever closer, I've come to realize I'm doing rather horribly on her birthday present. You may be thinking, "what does that have to do with anything?" Well, the truth of it is that she specifically requested a PJAO multi-chapter. In fact, I have the prologue of that up already (see my other PJAO story 'String'), but her birthday doesn't get any farther. I don't think I'm going to accommodate all of it by her birthday, but I really want to get a good dent in it, and I definitely won't be able to flit between three multiple-chapter-fictions. I'm sorry, but that's the truth. The good news is that I have a pretty good general idea of what the next chapter is going to be, so I _might_ be getting it up...say, by the end of the year? I'd story-alert this if you like it and haven't already. I actually completed the chapter, but that was in China, during Hiatus 3, and the government...well, deleted it.

Don't worry, it will DEFINITELY be completed. And hopefully sometime soon.

Oh, and by the way, I have two more chapters planned. The next one (the fulfillment of the dares) and an epilogue. You'll notice this chatroom had practically nothing to do with dares; I _really_ hate truth or dare fics. It's just that I got so many suggestions, I wanted to get them all in, and I wanted to get this story done quickly to focus solely on my friend's birthday gift.

**WHY I WON'T BE UPDATING PAINT THE SKY:**

Yeah, Laps, come after me with a pitchfork.

I _will_ complete this, I swear to the great heavens and above. But right now, I have no motivation, and the new books in the Cahills VS Vespers series are completely squandering my planned out plot line. I don't know how I'm going to fit in the Madeleine scene with Luke that got introduced with Vespers Rising, even. I had a plot bunny on Olivia's death that got completely crushed to death when the 'stable-on-fire' thing came in. I swear, I _will_ finish this. But, unlike the chatroom, it won't be anytime soon.

My plan right now is to chip at it _reaaaaallly_ slowly, doing only a _leeeeeetle_ bit at a time, and publish as little chapters as I possibly can until the Cahills VS Vespers series is complete, so I can make the fic as canon as it can possibly be. I know, I know...

I'm so sorry. But, as said above, I have simply. _no_. motivation.

_**EVERYBODY READ THIS: CRUCIAL: CAN NOT BE MISSED: WILL BE ASSAULTED WITH PITCHFORK IF NOT READ (NOT REALLY...):**_

After these two fics, I'll definitely be taking things a _lot_ lighter. One multi-chapter at a time, for example. I've learned my lesson. This is not working out. It'll be difficult finding a balance between my multiple multi-chap bunnies and my writing speed. I swear though, everything will work out.

**chatroom viewers:** Please check out the birthday multi-chap, String, I'll be working on during this hiatus: http: /www. fan ficti on. n e t/s /736 332 8/ 1 /St ri ng (Take out the spaces...I'll never be able to understand why Fanfiction blocks these.)

**sky viewers: **I'm sorry. You might want to story alert this one.

~Omnis Anima Volet~

_Irise_


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